The 

Persian  Poets 


THE   GAME  OF  CHANGAN 

From  this  quaint  illustration  may  be  seen  the  close  resemblance  of  the  Royal 
Game  of  Persia  to  the  modern  polo.  It  was  played  by  horsemen  who  strove 
to  drive  a  ball   between  upright  goals  by  means  of  mallets. 


The 

Persian  Poets 


Edited  by 

NATHAN  HASKELL  DOLE 


BELLE  M.  WALKER 


New  York 
THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL  &  CO. 

Publishers 


Copyright,  I  go  I,  by 
THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL  tf  CO 


Mr 


OS 

A  7  A  i..   I 


NAU 


PAGE 

General  Introduction vii 

Firdausi I 

Sohrab       ........  8 

Omar  Khayyam 81 

Selections  from  the  Rubaiyat      ....  84 

Nizami 90 

The  Loves  of  Laili  and  Majnun           ...  91 

Rumi 204 

The  Masnavi     .......  207 

Poems        ........  230 

Essedi 249 

Day  and  Night  .......  249 

Sa'di 253 

Gulistan  ;  or,  Rose  Garden         ....  256 

Selections  from  the  Bustan         ....  323 

Hafiz 339 

A  Persian  Song 344 

Odes 346 

Jami 388 

Yusuf  and  Zulaikha    .         .         .         .         ...  390 

iii 


GENERAL    INTRODUCTION. 


i. 

The  vital  persistence  of  poetry  is  a  kind  of  miracle  !  A 
nation  may  not  prize  its  bard  while  he  lives,  but  after  he  is 
dead  all  the  preservative  forces  are  employed  to  perpetuate 
his  songs.  The  Iliad  and  Odyssey,  the  sEneid,  the  Kale- 
vala,  the  Nibelungenlied,  the  Shah-Nameh,  become  the  chief 
glories,  not  alone  of  the  country  where  they  originate,  but 
of  the  world.  Kings  and  emperors  conquer  and  destroy, 
and  then  try  to  hand  their  fame  to  posterity  by  magnificent 
constructions.  But  their  names  are  only  names,  their  cities 
and  palaces  crumble,  and  thousands  of  years  later  some 
curious  excavator  finds  at  the  bottom  of  the  heap  a  clay 
tablet  on  which  is  a  simple  little  verse*  which  reveals  the 
thought  of  an  unknown  poet  or  gives  a  glimpse  of  a  van- 
ished civilization. 

Of  course,  vast  quantities  of  poems  have  perished,  but 
that  any  of  the  epics  or  lyrics  of  antiquity  should  survive 
seems  wonderful  when  one  realizes  the  vicissitudes  through 
which  they  have  passed.  Fire  and  rust  and  rain  and  the 
ignorance  of  men  conspire  to  annihilate.  The  story  is  told 
that  an  unknown  poet  once  offered  to  Abd-Allah  ben  Taher, 
Emir  of  Khorasan,  a  versified  story.  The  bigoted  prince 
tore  the  manuscript  into  tatters,  declaring  that  there  was 
no  other  poetry  than  the  Kofan,  and  that  all  else  was  false- 
hood and  blasphemy.  History  is  full  of  such  instances. 
Thus  the  sand  waste  drowns  out  the  fertile  meadow.  But  we 
often  see  one  solitary  flower  or  grass-blade  piercing  through 
the  arid  soil. 

Poetry  is  really  the  most  precious  possession  of  men,  and 
history  is  not  so  much  valued  for  its  truth  as  for  its  grace. 


viii  Introduction. 

Only  its  poetical  passages  are  prized.  The  quaint  legends 
that  are  found  here  and  there  in  mediaeval  chronicles,  light- 
ing up  the  dreary  banalities,  are  an  implicit  testimony  to 
the  power  of  imagination.  Herodotus  was  not  so  accurate 
an  historian  as  Thucydides,  but  we  prefer  his  almost  epic 
narration.     The  Odyssey  outweighs  them  both. 

Genuine  poetry,  like  gold,  is  universal  and  survives  all 
permutations.  The  Hebrew  psalms,  or  their  prototypes, 
the  canticles  of  the  Akkads,  lose  little  in  beauty  or  majesty 
translated  into  any  language.  While  form  makes  a  large 
part  of  the  beauty  of  poetry,  yet  poetry  is  more  than  form. 
Homer  in  prose  is  more  satisfactory  than  Homer  in  English 
hexameters.  If  the  thought  and  the  spirit  are  preserved, 
the  metre  of  a  translation  is  of  comparatively  small  con- 
sequence. 

There  is  in  literature  something  akin  to  exosmosis  in  phys- 
ics. Just  as  two  gases  confined  in  contiguous  receptacles 
tend  to  mingle,  so  great  poems  go  from  one  language  to 
another.  Sooner  or  later  this  process  must  take  place. 
Everything  good  in  Greek  and  Latin  already  exists  in  every 
modern  tongue.  If  we  believe  in  Emerson,  there  is  no  need 
of  learning  foreign  languages  :  he  found  it  more  satisfactory 
to  read  their  literatures  in  his  own. 

This  is  especially  true  of  the  more  difficult  languages  like 
Russian,  Hungarian,  Persian,  and  Arabic,  which  few  have 
time  to  master.  We  must  depend  on  translations.  Oriental 
poetry  has  had  two  serious  drawbacks  :  first,  those  that 
dovote  themselves  to  the  languages  in  which  these  poems 
are  found  are  generally  men  of  affairs  and  not  pcets  ;  and 
secondly,  the  thought  and  spirit  as  well  as  the  form  are  so 
alien  and  opposed  to  the  practical*  direct,  and  simple  mind 
of  the  Westerner  that  his  interpretation  is  often  only  a  shot 
into  the  air,  a  guess  likely  to  go  amiss.  Words  simple  in 
themselves,  compounded  form  concepts  of  far  different 
potentiality,  just  as  charcoal  and  saltpetre  put  together 
make  an  explosive  mixture.     Thus  in  the  Bustan  of  Sa'di 


Introduction.  ix 

Darius,  Dara,  Lord  of  Iran  and  Turan,  is  called  far-nth, 
literally  glory-cheek,  which  being  interpreted  means  divine. 
A  slave  is  expressed  by  the  words  halqadar-gush  (ring-in- 
ear.)  It  is  not  without  significance  that  Greece  in  Persian 
is  called  Rome  —  Rum  !  Not  only  words  but  whole  sen- 
tences must  be  interpreted  with  liberal  imagination.  Thus 
when  Sa'di  in  his  ghazel  says,  "  If  the  sword  is  in  thy  hand, 
win  the  victory,'1  he  only  means,  Be  a  genuine  poet  if  thou 
hast  the  skill. 

When  a  famine  is  spoken  of,  its  effects  on  men  are  indi- 
cated thus  :  "  So  lean  a  year  was  it  that  the  full  moon  of 
men's  faces  became  a  new  moon.'" 

These  difficulties,  which  are  inherent,  become  intensified 
when  the  poet  purposely  mystifies  and  subtilizes.  Wine 
no  longer  signifies  wine,  but  the  spirit  ;  no  word  has  its 
normal  meaning,  and  every  line  must  have  a  gloss  and  a 
sophisticated  interpretation. 

No  wonder  the  direct  Western  mind  finds  itself  puzzled 
over  these  complications.  It  is  instructive  to  compare  the 
earlier  and  later  versions  of  an  identical  poem. 

The  grammar  of  Persian  is  as  simple  and  bald  as  Eng- 
lish. Into  its  historical  strata,  allied  indeed  to  English 
as  even  more  closely  to  ancient  Greek  and  Sanskrit,  was 
injected  a  wonderful  conglomerate  of  Arabic.  Almost 
every  Persian  word  has  its  Semitic  equivalent  and  syno- 
nyme,  giving  a  richness  to  the  language  analogous  to  what 
Chaucer  found  in  the  Normanized  Saxon  of  his  day.  Arabic 
plurals  are  added  to  Iranian  roots  ;  the  fecundity  of  rhymes 
is  vastly  increased,  so  that  in  many  poems  there  are  com- 
mencement and  mid-verse,  as  well  as  final,  agreements,  and, 
not  content  with  masculine  and  feminine  rhymes,  the  poet 
often  carried  the  stress  back  four  or  five,  or  even  six,  syl- 
lables :  as  haryha  bashad  and  ka,7yha  bashad. 

The  Oriental  delight  in  puns  finds  frequent  expression, 
and  the  thought  is  still  further  hidden  from  the  unaided 
eye  of  the  mind. 


x  Introduction. 

These  are  a  few  of  the  reasons  why  the  vast  mass  of 
Eastern  poetry  is  such  a  dark  continent  of  literature.  It 
still  waits  and  invites  investigation  by  the  well-equipped 
explorer.  The  popularity  of  Sohrab  and  Rustem,  of  Sir 
Edwin  Arnold's  paraphrases,  and  especially  Edward  Fitz- 
gerald's free  and  easy  translations,  seems  to  indicate  that 
the  way  has  been  prepared  for  a  more  general  exploitation 
of  this  splendid  field  ;  but  the  poet  of  sufficient  learning  has 
not  as  yet  appeared.  Meantime  we  must  content  ourselves 
with  the  efforts  that  have  already  been  made.  They  are 
by  different  hands  and  of  greatly  differing  merit.  The 
material  is  widely  scattered,  and  to  gather  it  together,  to 
winnow  out  the  best,  requires  judgment  and  literary  skill. 
Those  that  read  the  selections  that  follow  will  decide  for 
themselves  whether  the  poetry  is  or  is  not  worthy  of 
preservation.1 

II. 

Primitive  Persian  literature  is  scarcely  more  than  a  name. 
There  are  a  few  arrowhead  inscriptions  carved  in  the  solid 
rock.  The  Avesta  written  in  old  Baktrian,  was  taken  by 
the  Parsee  into  India  at  the  time  of  the  Mohammedan  con- 
quest. Nothing  was  known  of  its  existence  till  the  eigh- 
teenth century.  The  first  manuscript  was  brought  to 
England  in  1723 ;  it  was  not  translated  into  any  European 
language  until  1771.  Even  now  scholars  have  scarcely 
ceased  quarrelling  over  its  interpretation.  It  is  only  a  frag- 
ment of  its  former  vastness,  but  this  fragment  contains  many 
yasts  or  hymns,  sonorous  and  majestic  like  the  long  Mihir 
Yast  in  which  the  virtues  and  powers  of  Mithra  are  extolled. 
They  are  attributed  to  Zarathustra  or  Zoroaster  himself. 

"  We  sacrifice  unto  the  undying,  shining,  swift-horsed 
Sun?  sings  the  Khorshed  Yast.    "  When  the  light  of  the  Sun 

!The  curious  will  note  with  what  assiduity  the  Irish  cultivate  Per- 
sian. The  resemblance  of  the  native  name  of  Persia,  Eran,  to  the 
native  name  of  Ireland,  Erin,  is  significant. 


Introduction.  xi 

waxes  warmer,  then  up  stand  the  heavenly  Yazatas  (or 
Good  Gods),  by  hundreds  and  thousands,  they  gather  to- 
gether its  Glory  ;  they  make  its  Glory  pass  down  ;  they  pour 
its  Glory  upon  the  earth  made  by  Ahura,for  the  increase 
of  the  world  of  holiness,  for  the  increase  of  the  creatures 
of  holiness,  for  the  increase  of  the  undying,  shining,  swift- 
horsed  Sun . 

"  And  when  the  Sun  rises  up,  then  the  earth  made  by 
Ahura  becomes  clean  ;  the  waters  of  the  wells  become  clean  ; 
the  waters  of  the  sea  become  clean  ;  the  standing  waters 
become  clean ;  all  the  holy  creatures,  the  creatures  of  the 
Good  Spirit,  become  clean.'''1 

The  language  of  these  yasts  is  different  from  that  dialect 
in  which  the  rest  of  the  Avesta  is  composed ;  its  rhythmi- 
cal forms  also  differentiate  it ;  and  the  science  of  compara- 
tive philology  has  established  its  kinship  with  the  language 
of  the  Cuneiform  inscriptions  left  by  Cyrus  and  the  other 
Achemenidae,  and  with  Sanskrit.  But  the  enterprise  of 
modern  scholarship  has  not  as  yet  succeeded  in  finding  any 
royal  Persian  library  such  as  the  explorers  have  found  in 
Assyria.  Persia,  which  has  been  called  "the  highway  of 
the  human  race,11  has  been  trodden  under  foot  too  many 
times  by  conquering  armies  to  retain  many  vestiges  of  her 
indigenous  literature.  If  Alexander  the  Great  spared 
any  of  her  secular  books,  they  have  long  since  perished. 
Whatever  was  saved  exists  only  in  permuted  form  in  the 
legends  and  stories  which  later  poets  wove  into  their  works. 
Even  her  history  is  legendary,  and  no  one  knows  whether 
the  so-called  Pishdadian  dynasty  ever  existed. 

It  is  quite  possible  that  the  book  of  Esther  in  the  Bible 
may  have  been  taken  with  slight  changes  by  its  unknown 
Hebrew  author  from  some  ancient  apologue.  The  Cyro- 
pa>deia  is  a  characteristic  Persian  romance,  and  some  schol- 
ars are  fain  to  believe  that  Xenophon  may  have  heard  it,  or 
parts  of  it,  during  his  celebrated  expedition  against  the 
great  king. 


xii  Introduction. 

The  Shah-IVameh  is  a  repository  of  tales  and  legends 
which  Firdausi  only  revamped  from  antecedent  sources. 
Hundreds  of  the  short  stories  used  by  later  poets  to  illus- 
trate their  teachings  may  have  been  handed  down  from 
those  far-off  days.  We  may  believe  that  similar  conditions 
of  fertility,  wealth,  and  beauty  such  as  brought  forth  in 
one  era  a  multitude  of  singers,  had  similar  results  in  ancient 
Eran. 

There  is  no  trace  of  Persian  literature  from  the  time  of 
the  overthrow  of  the  Achemenian  kingdom  by  Alexander 
the  Great,  or  during  all  the  reign  of  the  Parthian  Arsa- 
cidae.  In  a.d.  226,  Ardesher  I.  founded  the  new  national 
dynasty  of  the  Sassanidae,  whose  official  language  was  that 
"  high  piping  Pehlevi,11  or  Pahlavi,  mentioned  in  Omar 
Khayyam.  It  had  a  special  script,  and  is  still  preserved 
comparatively  free  from  impurities,  by  the  million  and  a 
half  of  Parsees  in  Bombay  and  the  scattered  remnants  of 
the  fire-worshippers  in  Yezd.  They  preserved  naturally 
only  the  religious  works  of  that  epoch  :  a  cosmogony  and 
geography,  theological  treatises  and  a  vision  of  the  Fu- 
ture Life,  compared  by  the  curious  with  Dante's  Divine 
Comedy:  the  Book  of  Arda,  Son  of  Viraf  Every- 
thing else  is  lost ;  the  splendor  and  liberality  of  Chosroes 
the  greatest  of  the  Sassanian  kings  is  but  a  name ;  its 
only  relics  exist  in  the  works  of  later  poets,  just  as  the 
ruins  of  a  temple  may  be  built  into  a  palace.  Yet  we 
know  that  Bahram-Gor,1  who  reigned  from  420  till  438,  was 
fond  of  listening  to  popular  ballads,  one  of  which  Firdausi 
has  preserved.  In  the  time  of  Khuzrev  Parvez,  who  reigned 
from  590  till  628.  there  were  two  rival  poets,  Barbed  and 
Serghish  (Sergius,  a  Gr^eek  ?),  and  Barbed,  a  native  of 
Shiraz,  was  appointed  poet  laureate  and  used  to  delight 
the  court  with  his  graceful  rhymes  :  some  of  these,  or 
at  least  their  titles,  Firdausi  also  preserved. 

1  The  Persians  claim  that  he  himself  not  only  was  a  poet,  but  also 
invented  rhyme. 


Introduction,  xiii 

Professor  Pizzi  claims  that  the  form  of  lyric  verse  called 
by  the  Arabs  qasida  or  kasida,  in  which  there  is  always  a 
eulogy  of  some  prince,  is  the  continuation  or  transforma- 
tion of  the  ancient  Iranian  hymn  celebrating  the  gods  and 
heroes  and  their  doughty  deeds  :  "  a  far-off  echo  of  other 
praises  offered  with  equal  enthusiasm  to  masters  not  frail 
but  immortal.'"  Surely  in  literature,  as  in  Nature,  no  ele- 
ment is  lost. 

For  two  hundred  years  after  the  Arabic  conquest  (in 
641),  such  Persian  poets  as  have  come  down  to  our  knowl- 
edge adopted  Arabic  as  their  medium  of  expression,  and 
that  curious  modification  of  Persian  began  which  gave  the 
language  its  script  and  its  ill-fitting  grammar  and  its  multi- 
tude of  alien  Semitic  words.  Thalebi,  a  native  of  Nisha- 
pur,  wrote  in  1038  a  book  in  Arabic,  entitled  The  Only 
Pearl  of  the  World,  giving  a  list  of  the  poets  that  flour- 
ished during  the  first  centuries  after  the  Hijra.  Slant 
nominum  umbrce.  When  the  bigoted  Khalifs  ordered  all 
Persian  books  to  be  burned,  on  the  ground  that  the  Koran 
was  the  only  literature  worth  having,  they  could  not  destroy 
the  spirit  of  a  nation's  past. 

III. 

The  vitality  of  a  language  is  in  proportion  to  its  sim- 
plicity. As  Latin  gave  way  to  the  simpler  idioms  which  it 
tried  to  supplant,  or  coalesced  with  them  in  still  less  com- 
plicated forms,  so  Arabic  was  ultimately  replaced  by  Farsi 
or  modern  Persian.  This  was  a  natural  outcome  of  the 
law  that  disintegrates  great  kingdoms.  The  genius  of  a 
conqueror  like  Alexander  the  Great  or  the  Khalif  Omar 
may  be  able  for  a  time  to  make  the  wide  and  alien  prov- 
inces cohere,  but  his  successors  fail.  His  children  become 
rivals,  and  then  the  suppressed  nationalities  wake  to  revo- 
lution. Such  was  the  case  with  the  reign  of  the  Khalifs 
of  Damascus  and  Baghdad.     Under  the  Samanian  Shahs, 


xiv  Introduction, 

who  reigned  during  the  tenth  century  (901-998),  Persian 
again  became  a  literary  language.  One  of  these  kings, 
Nasr,  had  a  reign  of  thirty  years,  and  under  him  flourished 
the  blind  poet  Rudaghi  or  Rudaki,1  who  has  been  called 
the  Father  of  Persian  poetry.  He  was  born  about  880  in 
the  village  of  Rudag  near  Samarkand,  and  at  the  age  of 
eight  knew  the  Koran  by  heart  and  was  already  beginning 
to  improvise  verses.  Shah  Nasr  richly  rewarded  him,  and 
he  died  at  the  age  of  seventy-four  or  possibly  earlier.  He 
put  into  verse  the  book  of  Kalila  and  Dimna,  which  the 
Sassanian  King  Chosroes  had  brought  from  India.  But 
that  version  is  lost,  and  lost  likewise  are  most  of  the  million 
three  hundred  thousand  distichs  which  he  is  said  to  have 
composed.     A  hundred  books  of  poetry  perished ! 

The  few  lines  that  have  survived  display  vigor  of  expres- 
sion, freshness  of  imagery,  and  clearness  of  ideas.  He  was 
too  prodigal  of  his  praises  of  Nasr,  whom  he  compares  in 
power  to  Alexander  the  Great,  and  in  wisdom  to  Plato, 
but  he  set  the  key  for  Persian  verse  :  he  sang  the  delights 
of  the  budding  spring,  the  cruelty  and  pride  of  his  absent 
mistress,  the  sleepless  nights  and  the  sorrows  which  she 
caused  him.  Wine  also  he  sang  and  the  pleasures  of 
youth.  His  descriptions  of  his  love  are  exquisite :  her 
eyes  like  twin  narcissus  flowers  blooming  under  the  curve 
of  the  dark  brows  ;  her  silk-soft  cheeks,  her  black  hair  like 
a  net  to  capture  the  heart ;  he  recalls  so  passionately  the 
old  days  when  joy  was  plentiful  and  money  scarce ;  when 
beautiful-bosomed  girls  came  to  meet  him  and  they  drank 
the  limpid  wine.  What,  compared  to  those  happy  days, 
are  the  glory  and  the  favor  showered  upon  him  by  the 
glorious  race  of  the  Samanidae  ?  But  the  happy  days  of 
the  sprightly,  black-eyed,  Houri-like  maidens  is  passed  :  the 
world  is  all  illusion  and  vanity.  Bring  me  wine,  and  then 
let  what  must  come,  come! 

Rudaghi   was   not   the   only  poet   of    that   day.     The 

1  Ferid  ud-Din  Muhammad  Rudaghi. 


Introduction.  xv 

spring  sun  brings  forth  more  than  one  violet  from  the 
same  meadow.  Abu  Shukur  of  Balkh  also  complained  of 
the  misfortunes  of  love  and  harped  or  luted  the  beauty  of 
his  mistress.  There  was  Shahid,  also  of  Balkh,  whose 
death  Rudaghi  bewailed  in  verse.  He  also  saw  in  this 
world  only  misfortune  and  vanity ;  wisdom  is  the  only 
pearl ;    death  the   only  consolation   for  a   ruined  world. 

Dakiki  or  Daqiqi,  no  one  knows  where  born,  whether  at 
Bukhara  or  at  Samarkand  or  at  Tus,  or  how  long  he  lived, 
was  commissioned  by  Nuh,  the  son  of  the  Samanian  Man- 
sur,  to  compose  an  epic  version  of  the  Book  of  Kings. 
He  had  made  a  beginning  when  he  was  killed  by  a  slave, 
or  page.  Firdausi  commemorated  his  character,  his  gen- 
tle spirit,  and  the  death  that  came  suddenly  upon  him,  and 
incorporated  in  the  Shah-Nameh  the  thousand  lines  or 
more  in  which  the  deeds  of  King  Gushtasp  are  narrated. 
He  too  sang  of  spring  and  the  breath  of  paradise  breath- 
ing over  the  earth,  young  love  writing  its  story  on  the 
desert  sand,  and  the  sweet  roses.  Four  things  he  loved: 
the  passionate  pleading  of  the  lute  and  the  religion  of 
Zerdusht  (or  Zoroaster)  and  sweet  blood-hued  wine  and 
ruby  lips.  He  too  mourned  in  languishing  strain  the  night 
when  his  lips  were  widowed  of  his  love's.  He  would  not 
wish  to  live  if  he  must  live  without  his  mistress,  the  idol 
of  his  heart.  He  loved  moonlight  nights  when  the  world 
was  bright  and  the  verdure  spread  out  over  the  meadow 
like  a  Greek  vestment :  Come,  let  us  drink  wine  and  sing 
jocund  songs !  He  yearned  for  change  :  just  as  water  which 
stands  too  long  in  the  pool  grows  stagnant,  so  he  too  long 
remaining  in  one  place,  however  illustrious,  waxes  dis- 
contented. 

A  poet  of  distinguished  station  was  the  Emir  Agachi  of 
Bukhara,  governor  of  Bayan.  He  was  a  warrior  as  well  as 
a  philosopher.  Chinese  in  its  terseness  is  his  famous  poem 
on  the  snowstorm  :  "  Look  up  at  the  sky  and  see  the  ar?ny 
of  the  snow/lakes  fly !  Like  white  doves  the  hawks  affray, 


xvi  Introduction. 

they  lose  their  way!  Little  of  his  verse  remains,  but  he 
recorded  in  one  stanza  his  love  for  his  horse,  his  bow,  his 
book  and  poetry,  his  lute,  and  his  pen. 

( )nuir.  the  astronomer-poet,  had  his  prototype  in  Umarah 
or  Amari  of  Merv,  whose  fame  lasted  for  many  generations. 
He  lived  at  court  honored  as  an  astronomer  and  a  poet. 
Later  writers  found  in  his  writings,  as  in  Omar's,  the  mystic 
doctrine  of  the  Sufis.  He  bids  his  love  perform  the  miracle 
of  mingling  fire  and  water:  " Look  at  that  cup  and  that 
liquid !  the  cup  is  white  and  within  it  is  a  clear  wine  ruby- 
luted  I  That  is  how  fire  is  mingled  with  water  I "  It  reminds 
one  of  Ben  Jonson's  poem  :  — 

"  Drink  to  vie  only  with  thine  eyes." 
His  "  idol  "  holds  a  wine-cup  in  her  hand  :  it  is  the  union 
of  sun  and  moon  !  When  she  lifts  the' wine-cup  and  the 
ruby  reflection  of  the  wine  shines  on  her  lovely  face,  a 
shade  of  displeasure  passes  over  it,  but  when  the  wine 
pours  through  her  silver-white  teeth  it  is  as  if  the  trailing 
garments  of  the  moon  delayed  among  the  Pleiades  upon 
the  shining  sky. 

"  Thy  desire,  he  sings,  shall  work  fulfilled  to-day, 
Soon  thou  unit  come  to  the  realms  of  thy  fathers. 
All  the  hopes  of  the  sons  of  Adam  hang  on  the  neck  of  to-morrow'' 

The  same  melancholy  minor  sounds  in  the  verse  of  Ghi- 
lani.  of  whom  nothing  is  known,  and  only  a  few  lines 
remain  :  Like  the  autumn  wind  and  like  the  spring  clouds 
the  time  of  his  youth  had  fled  from  him!  He  recalls  the 
days  when  his  cheeks  were  flushed  with  health,  when  his 
ears  were  ever  ringing  with  music  and  song,  when  his 
hands  grasped  the  wine-cup  proffered  by  what  Mr.  John 
Payne  calls  the  skinker!  —  the  mughan  whom  we  much 
prefer  to  imagine  a  lovely  damsel.  But  he  ends  it  with 
the  wail  :   A  weeping  and  recalling  the  bright  days 

ith :  oh,  my  youth,  my  youth  ! 

This  cry  for  vanished  youth  is  echoed  by  Khusravani, 


Introduction.  xvii 

who  was  almost  as  much  of  a  mocker  as  Omar.  He 
satirizes  the  old  men  who  would  try  to  deceive  death  by 
dyeing  their  gray  hairs;  and  as  he  lies  on  his  deathbed  he 
finds  no  grain  of  comfort  in  the  leech  or  the  priest  or  the 
astrologer  or  the  quack  with  their  medicaments,  prayers, 
horoscopes,  and  talismans. 

The  few  relics  of  these  poets  out  of  the  enormous  mass 
of  verse  which  they  composed,  the  unknown  verse  of  others 
scarcely  less  known,  the  verse  not  known  at  all,  make  it 
probable  that  what  is  lost  is  no  great  loss.  What  poet  lived 
in  that  half  century  between  Rudaghi  and  Kisayi?  Kisayi 
was  born  at  Merv  in  February,  952  ;  in  an  elegy  written 
just  before  his  death,  he  tells  of  his  ambitions :  to  make 
songs  and  to  enjoy  all  the  good  things  of  life.  But  instead 
he  served  like  a  mule,  like  a  slave,  and  at  the  end  what  had 
he  ?  It  is  the  old  song :  vanished  youth,  sweet  joy  of 
existence,  beauty,  fair  girls,  and  wine,  all  departed.  In  his 
old  age,  with  his  head  which  has  the  whiteness  of  milk, 
there  is  nothing  left  but  the  fear  of  death,  which  makes 
him  tremble  as  disobedient  schoolgirls  shake  with  terror 
at  the  lash.  It  is  said  that  in  his  last  unhappy  days  he 
gave  himself  up  to  a  religious  life  and  to  the  acquisition 
of  what  he  calls  true  riches.  Yet,  like  the  hermit  in  the 
old  Spanish  tale,  he  looked  back  with  yearning  eyes  on 
the  life  which  he  had  desired  but  had  not  obtained.  His 
poems  on  the  lotus  and  the  rose  are  exquisite,  and  the  invi- 
tation which  the  bulbul  utters,  ll  Take  thy  true  love  by  the 
hand  in  the  early  dawn  and  fly  with  him  down  into  the 
garden,"  is  an  admirable  example  of  Persian  grace. 

IV. 

It  will  be  seen  that  there  was  no  sudden  flaring  up  of 
Persian  poetry  in  the  person  of  Firdausi.  He  was  the 
greatest  of  all.  Not  only  as  an  epic  poet  but  as  a  lyric 
poet   he   surpassed   all  others :    the   poem   in   which   he 


xviii  Introduction. 

dreamed  that  he  was  lying  in  the  dust  his  heart  consumed 
with  anguish  for  his  absent  love  and  suddenly  she  entered 
( or  is  it  he  ?)  before  him,  is  a  marvellous  effort  of  the 
imagination  ;  the  vividness  of  the  dream  and  the  passion 
of  longing  which  it  expresses  are  seldom  excelled  in  litera- 
ture ;  the  picture  of  the  daybreak  interrupting  the  happy 
reunion  is  exquisitely  painted. 

Firdausi's  contemporary  and  friend  or  rival  (who  can 
tell?),  Farrukhi.  had  a  happier  lot.  He  was  a  native  of 
Sistan,  where  his  father  was  in  the  service  of  the  governor. 
He  early  began  to  write  poetry,  and  having  a  good  voice 
was  accustomed  to  sing  his  songs  to  the  accompaniment 
of  the  lute.  He  fell  in  love  with  a  slave  of  the  gov- 
ernor's, but  marriage  with  her  brought  him  no  increase 
of  fortune.  But  he  managed  to  have  some  of  his  songs 
and  kasidas  brought  to  the  notice  of  a  wealthy  prince  of 
Balkh.  Through  him  he  was  introduced  to  Mahmud  of 
Ghazni,  where  he  soon  acquired  great  honors  and  riches. 
He  fell  into  disfavor  shortly  before  Mah mud's  death  in 
1030,  and  survived  him  seven  years.  Of  his  love  songs 
none  exist;  none  of  his  narrative  poems  have  come  down 
to  us.  His  eulogy  of  Mahmud  as  a  warrior  has  been  pre- 
served, and  there  are  descriptions  which  he  wrote  of  a 
royal  hunt  and  of  Mahmud's  garden  at  Ghazni,  which  he 
compares  to  the  glorious  Kausar-watered  paradise  of  the 
Mohammedans. 

Still  another  of  Firdausi's  contemporaries  was  Unsuri  or 
Ansari,  a  native  of  Balkh.  At  first  he  was  a  merchant,  but 
having  been  robbed  of  all  he  had,  he  turned  poet,  and  was 
introduced  to  the  court  of  Mahmud,  who  speedily  enriched 
him  so  that  he  was  able  to  use  kitchen  utensils  of  silver 
and  his  table  service  was  of  gold.  For  a  single  song  he  is 
said  to  have  received  a  thousand  gold  dinars,  equivalent  to 
£2000.  lie  died  about  1040.  He  enjoyed  the  distinction 
of  being  called  "  king  of  poets,'1  and  when  it  is  related 
that  no  less  than  four  hundred  rhvmesters  solicited  of  him 


Introduction. 


xix 


favors  and  honors  from  the  Shah,  one  can  easily  believe 
that  he  earned  his  salary.  He  was  praised  and  eulogized 
by  this  throng  of  hungry  applicants,  whatever  envy  they 
may  have  felt  in  their  hearts,  and  more  of  their  eulogies 
of  him  have  come  to  us  than  of  his  own  poetry.  It  is 
pleasant  to  believe  that  he  had  sufficient  grace  to  recognize 
in  Firdausi  a  greater  man  than  himself,  and  that  he  magnani- 
mously renounced  the  commission  of  writing  the  Shah- 
Nameh  in  his  favor.  He  himself  wrote  in  Persian  verse 
the  ancient  tale  of  Vamik  and  Azra  and  two  other  long 
poems  now  lost ;  indeed  his  contribution  to  the  lyre  of 
his  day  was  no  less  than  thirty  thousand  verses,  of  which 
now  only  two  or  three  insignificant  fragments  remain. 

Persian  poetry  is  generally  considered  as  beginning  with 
Abul  Iasim  Mansur,  surnamed  Firdausi,  the  son  of  Fakhr 
ud-din  Ahmed  of  Tus  in  Khorasan.  His  name  of  Fir- 
dausi is  the  same  as  the  Greek  Paradeisos,  our  paradise, 
and  may  signify  that  he  was  the  son  of  a  gardener  or  a 
gardener  himself,  or  that  it  was  a  poetical  appellation,  just 
as  Omar  may  have  been  a  tent-maker,  and  the  Shaikh  Farid 
ud-din  Attar,  a  druggist.  He  is  said  to  have  been  educated 
by  his  father,  and  to  have  been  in  the  poetic  art  the  pupil 
of  Abu  Nasr  Asad  ud-Din  Ahmed  Ibn  Mansur,  known  as 
Asadi  or  Essedi. 

Various  stories  are  told  of  his  introduction  to  Mahmud. 
One  of  them  is  that  Asadi,  who  was  invited  to  try  his  hand 
at  putting  the  old  Book  of  Kings  into  the  new  Persian, 
turned  it  over  to  his  pupil.  If,  as  it  is  said,  the  news  had 
gone  abroad  that  the  great  enterprise  was  waiting  the 
master  hand,  the  presence  of  four  hundred  poets  at  Ghazni 
is  easily  explained.  And  also  the  obstacles  which  they 
put  into  Firdausi's  way  before  he  had  a  chance  to  be  heard. 
But  when  once  Mahmud  had  listened  to  the  story  of 
Rustem  and  Isfendyar,  he  turned  the  ancient  books  over 
to  the  young  poet,  gave  him  a  house  in  a  garden,  the 
inspiration  of  a  beautiful  young  page  who  should  supply 


xx  Introduction. 

him  with  all  that  cheered  as  well  as  inebriated,  and  at 
desired  intervals  should  touch  the  strings  of  the  lute. 
All  that  and  the  promise  of  a  gold  piece  for  every  line! 
Truly  those  ••halt-barbarous1'  provinces  of  Persia  were  the 
paradise  for  poets,  and  all  that  have  lived  since  have  been 
"idle  singers  of  an  empty  day.11  And  no  wonder  Fir- 
dausi  wrote  the  longest  poem  that  was  ever  put  on  record. 
It  was  finished  in  1009,  and  by  a  sort  of  miracle  it  has 
come  clown  to  our  day  intact,  while  so  many  thousands  of 
poems  have  perished. 

Firdausi's  tomb  is  said  to  have  been  still  standing,  not 
far  from  Tus,  at  the  beginning  of  the  last  century,  but  it  is 
now  wholly  destroyed  and  the  place  where  the  greatest 
poet  of  Persia  was  buried  is  unknown.  But  the  poem 
itself  is  said  to  have  lived  in  the  hearts  of  the  people,  just 
as  the  Gerusalemme  Liberata  of  Tasso  is  preserved  in 
the  memory  of  the  Venetians.  It  was  first  collated  by 
Baysingher,  the  nephew  of  Timur  the  Great  (Tamerlane), 
about  1425.  Sir  William  Jones,  about  1774,  brought  it  to 
the  notice  of  European  scholars ;  he  supposed  it  was  a 
collection  of  poems  by  different  authors.  In  1814,  Atkin- 
son published  in  Calcutta  the  episode  of  Sohrab,  in  an 
English  version.  The  entire  text  was  published  in  four 
volumes  in  1829;  Mohl's  edition  in  six  volumes,  containing 
the  Persian  and  his  French  prose  version,  appeared  in 
Paris  in  1850- 1866.  It  still  awaits  the  English  scholar  to 
perform  a  like  task. 


Firdausi  has  been  rightly  called  the  Homer  of  Persia, 
since  he,  like  the  unknown  unifier  of  the  Grecian  national 
songs,  gathered  together  the  scattered  legends  of  ancient 
Persia.  Pizzi  says  that  the  central  subject  of  the  long  and 
magnificent  narrative  of  the  Persian  epopie  is  the  secular 


Introduction.  xxi 

struggle  of  the  Iranians  against  the  Devi  or  Demons,  by 
whom  are  meant  a  primitive  people  subjected  by  them,  and 
against  the  Turanians,  a  barbaric  and  ferocious  nation  from 
Northern  Asia  beyond  the  Oxus.  This  struggle  became 
confused  or  entangled  with  the  basic  dualism  of  the  reli- 
gion of  Zarathustra,  which  always  held  up  the  eternal 
opposition  between  good  and  evil,  light  and  darkness,  truth 
and  falsehood,  life  and  death,  typified  on  the  one  hand  in 
the  beneficent  creative  god  Ahura  Mazda,  or  Ormuzd,  and 
on  the  other,  by  the  malign  god  Anra  Mainyu.  or  Ahriman. 
Not  only  gods,  but  demigods,  and  heroes,  superhuman  as 
well  as  common,  took  part  in  the  epic  struggle. 

The  position  of  the  early  Iranians,  between  the  snowclad 
mountains  and  the  desert,  may  well  have  given  birth  to  this 
religion  of  violent  contrasts.  Out  of  it  grew  the  national 
epic,  as  from  the  German  theogony  arose  the  Nibelungen- 
lied.  It  was  a  marvellous  conception,  and  deserves  its 
Wagner  to  bring  it  also  into  the  realm  of  music  and  the 
drama.  Nothing  is  more  interesting  than  the  transforma- 
tion of  the  ingenious  metal  workers  of  ancient  subjected 
populations  through  popular  superstition  into  supernatural 
beings.  Thus  the  palaces  of  King  Jamshid  and  of  Kai 
Kavus  were  the  creation  of  the  Devi ;  these  miraculous 
beings  taught  King  Tamuras  to  write,  and  they  flew  through 
the  sky  carrying  on  their  shoulders  the  throne  of  Jamshid. 
In  the  same  way  Hephaistos  in  Greece  was  a  lame  and  dis- 
reputable god  working  in  subterranean  forges  ;  in  the  same 
way  the  Kobolds  of  the  German  legend  dwelt  in  the  bowels 
of  the  mountains  and  fabricated  wondrous  armor.  Crimes 
and  vices  became  personified  in  the  forms  of  these  Devi. 
Often  they  underwent  grotesque  transformations,  as  Fir- 
dausi  conscientiously  relates.  Comparative  mythology  and 
comparative  'philology  bind  closely  together  the  hidden 
elements  of  all  the  great  epics  :  the  same  nature  gods 
appear  in  the  Vedas  and  the  Avesta,  in  the  Iliad 
and   the   Sagas.     The   Muse   of  history  can   disentangle 


XXII 


Introduction. 


and  interpret  the  secret  history  of  our  Aryan  ancestors  in 
the  myths  of  the  Shah-Nameh. 

Firdausi  was  not  the  only  Persian  poet  to  draw  his 
inspiration  from  the  Book  of  Kings:  Abu'l  Hasan  Ali, 
the  son  of  Firdausi's  teacher  Asadi,  and  also  known  as 
Asadi,  wrote  the  Ghershasp-Nameh  or  Book  of  Gher- 
shasp,  which  was  an  episode  neglected  by  Firdausi.  Still 
another  imitative  continuation  or  complement  was  the 
Sam-Nameh,  or  Book  of  Sam,  eleven  thousand  lines 
in  length,  describing  the  wars  of  that  hero  in  China,  his 
loves  with  the  beautiful  Peri-dokht,  daughter  of  the  Chi- 
nese emperor  and  mother  of  Zal,  and  the  discovery  of  the 
treasures  of  King  Jamshid.  The  authorship  of  this  work 
is  not  known,  but  is  supposed  to  be  of  much  later  date. 
There  are  in  manuscript  still  other  epics  belonging  to  the 
same  cycle,  and  relating  the  exploits  of  RustenVs  sons, 
Gihau-ghir,  Feramurz,  and  Sohrab.  The  pathetic  story  of 
Rustem  and  Sohrab  also  found  many  imitators,  and  Sohrab 
himself,  if  we  may  believe  these  unknown  poets,  had  sev- 
eral sons  whose  gallant  deeds  fill  many  weary  lines. 


VI. 

It  would  take  a  volume  to  give  even  a  hint  at  the  con- 
tents of  all  the  Persian  poets,  Whose  ghazels  and  rubaiyat 
(or  quatrains),  and  kasidas  and  contrasts,  fill  the  multi- 
tudinous manuscripts  collected  with  patient  zeal  by  so 
many  Persian  scribes.  Von  Hammer  and  Ethe  and  Pizzi 
have  analyzed  their  works  and  published  more  or  less  faith- 
ful versions  of  their  characteristic  verses.  There  are  hun- 
dreds of  them,  but  the  sacred  number  seven  enumerates 
those  that  the  Persians  themselves  and  critics  generally 
consider  the  greatest.  These,  beside  Firdausi.  are  Anvari, 
Nizami.  Jalal  ud-Din  Kumi,  Sa'di,  Hafiz,  and  Jami.  These 
are  the  seven  great  stars  of  the  Pleiades,  though  the  astron- 


Introduction,  xxiii 

omer  with  his  opera  glass  can  find  almost  countless  thou- 
sands twinkling  in  the  literary  firmament :  Azraki  and 
Amiq  and  Hanzalah  and  Humam-ud-Din  and  Isfarangi 
and  Khusrev  of  Delhi,  and  Mahmud  Ibn  Abd  ul-Kerim 
Ibn  Yahya  Shabisteri  and  others  with  equally  long  names 
from  Abbas  to  Zagani. 

Of  recent  years,  the  Western  world  has  discovered  in 
Abu1!  Fath  Umar  Ibn  Ibrahim  Khayyami,  known  as  Omar 
the  TenttMaker,  one  of  the  greatest  and  certainly  now  the 
most  popular  of  the  Persian  Pleiads.  He  burned  out  into 
the  first  magnitude  like  Nova  Persei,  but  has  not  faded. 
In  Persia  he  is  scarcely  known.  An  American  woman, 
long  resident  in  Paris,  happened  to  know  the  Persian  con- 
sul there,  and  recently  showed  to  him  Sibleigrfs  French  ver- 
sion of  Fitzgerald.  He  had  never  heard  of  Omar  Khayyam, 
was  amazed  at  the  proportions  of  the  cult  when  it  was 
explained  to  him,  was  delighted  with  the  verses,  and  grate- 
ful to  have  been  introduced  to  such  a  fascinating  author  of 
his  own  country. 

A  large  part  of  the  verse  attributed  to  Omar  consists 
undoubtedly  of  spurious  quatrains,  imitations  of  the  orig- 
inal being  as  facile  to  make  as  imitations  of  his  English 
understudy.  Nor  are  the  stories  of  his  life  founded  on 
authentic  documents.1  All  the  more  remarkable,  there- 
fore, is  the  distinctness  of  his  personality,  especially  when 
one  realizes  that  he  touched  no  new  chord  ;  it  is  the  old 
strain  of  pessimism,  with  gleams  of  satiric  humor  tem- 
pered with  liberality.  His  popularity  may  be  partially 
explained  by  his  comparative  simplicity.  There  are  few 
of  the  far-fetched  conceits  so  characteristic  of  Oriental 
poetry.      It  is  direct  and   therefore   universal,  and   even 

1  Most  that  is  known  or  fabled  about  him,  including  the  recent 
discovery  of  references  to  him  embodied  in  the  article  in  Baron 
Rosen's  testimonial  volume,  has  been  woven  into  a  romance  of  his 
life :  Omar  the  Tent-Maker,  by  Nathan  Haskell  Dole,  Boston, 
i8o8. 


XXIV 


Introduction. 


that  are  not  inclined  to  accept  his  philosophy  of  life 
feel  the  spell  of  his  graceful  melancholy,  his  audacious 
irreverence  for  empty  forms,  and  his  frank  enjoyment  of 
present  pleasure.  Fascinating  as  Fitzgerald's  English  ver- 
sion is,  its  uniform  measure  and  simplicity  of  rhyme  give 
little  idea  of  the  varying  rhythms  and  captivating  compli- 
cated rhymes  of  the  original  Persian.  Mr.  John  Payne  has 
translated  all  of  the  verse  attributed  to  him  into  measure 
purporting  to  represent  the  original,  but  such  a  tour  de 
force  must  of  necessity  fail.  Only  two  or  three  in  a  hun- 
dred lend  themselves  to  such  imitation.  Here  is  one  that 
gives  a  fair  idea  of  the  Persian  :  — 

'•  The  Breath  of  the  early  Spring  in  the  Face  of  the  Rose  is  sweet ; 
'1  In-  Face  of  my  Love  in  the  shade  of  the  garden-close  is  sweet ; 

■  thou  canst  say  of  the  Day  that  has  vanished  away  is  sweet ; 
Be  happy ;  think  not  of  the  Past  for  To-day  as  it  glows  is  sweety 

If  one  could  only  twist  the  word  "sweet"  into  a  play  on 
the  word  "suite."  it  would  be  still  more  after  the  Persian 
manner. 

Arhad  ud-Din  Anvari  is  known  as  the  chief  poet  of 
courtly  elegance  and  high-flown  encomium,  the  praiser  of 
princes  and  the  satirist  of  love-lorn  ghazelists.  He  was  a 
native  of  the  province  of  Dasht.  He  studied  astronomy 
and  other  sciences  in  the  college  of  Tus,  and  it  is  said  that 
as  he  was  sitting  one  day  at  the  gate  of  the  school,  he  saw, 
passing  by,  a  great  lord  accompanied  by  a  throng  of  attend- 
ants magnificently  arrayed.  When  he  learned  that  it  was  a 
court  poet,  he  instantly  resolved  to  be  likewise  a  court  poet. 
He  composed  a  panegyric  in  honor  of  Sanjar,  and  asked  to 
be  received  at  court.  His  prayer  was  heard,  and  he  lived 
in  great  honor  until  into  the  reign  of  Toghrul,  son  of  Alp 
Arslan.  His  fall  from  grace  was  due  to  a  prediction  on 
which  his  credit  as  an  astronomer  depended.  He  an- 
nounced that  in  consequence  of  a  conjunction  of  the  seven 
planets  in  Libra  in  the  autumn  of  1185  a  terrible  convul- 
sion of  nature  would  take  place.     People  were  frightened, 


Introduction.  xxv 

and  took  refuge  in  the  mountains  and  in  caverns ;  but,  on 
the  day  set,  the  sun  rose  cloudless  and  the  breeze  scarcely 
blew.  Anvari  took  this  defeat  so  completely  to  heart  that 
he  returned  to  Nishapur ;  then  to  Balkh,  where  he  died, 
either  in  1191  or  1195. 

One  of  his  best  poems  was  written  in  behalf  of  Sanjar, 
when  that  prince  was  captured  and  imprisoned  by  a  Turko- 
man horde  that  had  overrun  Khorasan.  It  was  sent  to 
Ahmed,  son  of  Suleiman,  at  Samarkand,  and  resulted  in 
Sanjar1s  liberation.  It  has  been  called  The  Tears  of 
Khorasan.  It  begins  with  an  exordium  to  the  morning 
wind  as  it  passes  by  Samarkand  to  bear  to  the  sovereign 
king  "the  plaint  of  Khurasania  plunged  in  woe.11  It  tells 
of  the  unhappy  state  of  Khorasan  and  her  people  —  a  tale 
so  grievous  that  it  would  tear  the  ears  to  hear  it ;  to  see 
would  suffuse  the  eyes  with  tears  of  blood.  It  begs  the 
Prince  of  Sarmarkand  to  come  and  wreak  vengeance  ort 
the  cursed,  turbulent  Ghuzi.  It  gives  a  piteous  descrip- 
tion of  the  excesses  committed  by  these  barbarians  —  the 
mosques  converted  into  stables,  the  nobles  reduced  to  serve 
as  slaves,  the  ravished  virgins,  and  the  ruined  homes.  He 
begs  him  by  that  God  who  allows  him  to  coin  money,  who 
has  placed  the  diadem  on  his  brow,  to  rescue  from  these  ra- 
pacious, vile,  and  cruel  Turkomans  the  heart  of  God's  people. 

This  poem  was  translated  by  Captain  Fitzpatrick  for  the 
Asiatic  Miscellany  of  1785  ;  but,  like  most  Oriental  poetry 
rendered  into  English  at  that  time,  is  so  hopelessly  alien 
in  form  and  spirit  to  the  original  that  it  is  not  worth  citing. 
In  his  last  melancholy  days,  Anvari  satirizes  the  poets  that 
lie  awake  all  night  trying  to  describe  sugary  lips  and  curl- 
ing tresses.  He  himself  had  composed  songs  and  satires, 
but  as  such  work  is  unworthy  of  a  man,  he  confesses  the 
harm  and  violence  his  genius  had  done  to  others,  and 
resolves  to  find  the  path  of  security  in  the  religious  life 
aloof  from  the  world.  One  seeks  in  vain  to  find  in  English 
any  adequate  translation  of  Anvari's  works. 


xxvi  Introduction. 


VII. 


If  we  had  all  of  Nizami's  fivefold  works.1  it  would  be  in 
itself  a  sea  of  verse.  Little  is  known  of  him  except  that 
he  was  born  in  1141  in  the  mountainous  region  of  Rum, 
and  spent  the  larger  part  of  his  life  at  Ganja  in  Arran, 
where  he  died  in  1201  or  1202.  His  tomb  was  still  shown 
threescore  years  ago.  His  first  work  was  the  Makhzan 
,'/-,  or  Treasury  of  Mysteries,  composed  in  1179. 
This  was  followed  by  four  romantic  poems  of  epic  propor- 
tions :  The  Story  of  Khusrev  and  Shirina,  taken  from 
ancient  Persian  history ;  the  famous  Bedouin  love  story 
of  Majnun  and  Lad/ ;  the  Haft  Paikar  or  Seven  Bean- 
tics,  in  which  he  relates  the  adventures  of  the  Sassanian 
King  and  Huntsman  Bahram-Gor  and  his  seven  wives; 
the  Fortunes  of  Alexander  or  Book  of  Iskander  (fskan- 
der-NameK),  an  epic  after  the  manner  of  Firdausi.  It  is 
said  that  he  also  published  (in  1188)  a  Divan,  or  collec- 
tion of  ghazels  and  kasidas  numbering  twenty  thousand 
verses.  But  most  of  these  have  perished.  Nizami  is  rep- 
resented in  this  volume  by  extracts  from  Majnun  and 
Lad/.     Sa'di  says  of  him  :  — 

"  Gone  is  Nizami,  our  exquisite  pearl,  which  Heaven  in  its  kindness 
Formed  of  the  purest  dew,  formed  for  the  gem  of  the  world! 
1  "almfy  it  shone  in  its  brightness,  but  by  the  world  unregarded, 
Heaven  assuming  its  gift,  laid  it  again  in  its  Shell." 

and  I  lafiz  writes  :  — 

"  This  ancient  vault  containeth  nothing  beneath  it  com- 
parable in  beauty  to  the  words  of  Nizami.'1'1 

One  might  perhaps  mention  here  the  epic  and  lyric 
poel  Khusrev  «»t  Delhi,  who  imitated  Nizami  in  his  mystic 
poem,  the  Malta  ul-Anvar.  or  Of  the  Stars,  in  his  Ayinab-i 
Iskander    or    Minor   of    Alexander,   and   in    his   Hasht 

1  Known  in  Persian  as  Penj  Ghenj  or  The  Five  Treasures;  in 
Arabic  simply  as  Khamsa,  or  The  Five. 


Introduction.  xxvii 

Bihisht  or  Eight  Paradises.  He  boasted  of  having  com- 
posed nearly  a  half  million  couplets.  One  of  his  quat- 
rains has  a  melancholy  beauty :  "  /  went  to  the  grave- 
yard and  wept  bitterly  for  absent  friends  now  the  captives 
of  non-existence.  i  Where  are  they,"1  I  asked  in  sadness, 
1  those  dear  friends  of  my  heart  f '  And  a  voice  from  the 
grave  softly  replied :  i  Where  are  they  t '  r 

Of  Rumi,  Sa'di,  Hafiz,  and  Jami,  this  book  speaks  more 
fully,  each  in  his  proper  place,  and  with  abundant  illustra- 
tions of  their  famous  verse. 

VIII. 

One  cannot  leave  the  subject  of  Persian  poetry  without 
a  word  regarding  the  mysticism  which  permeates  it.  To 
us  who  read  poetry  for  poetry's  sake  the  mystic  interpreta- 
tion is  almost  an  impertinence.  Just  as  we  know  that  the 
Faerie  Queene  is  a  morality  in  verse,  and  Pilgrim'1  s  Progress 
is  a  morality  in  prose,  but  find  all  of  #our  pleasure  in  them 
apart  from  the  poet's  and  the  preacher's  primary  intent, 
so  we  resent  the  Sufistic  reading  of  esoteric  spiritual  mean- 
ings into  verse  that  is  sufficient  for  us  in  its  simple  outward 
beauty.  Nevertheless,  we  cannot  avoid  the  fact  that  most 
Persian  lyric  poetry  is  double  in  its  significance,  and  has 
been  so  interpreted. 

All  Persian  mysticism  goes  back  to  the  philosophic  con- 
ception of  God  :  if  one  believes  that  God  is  the  responsible 
source  of  all  action,  then  logically  there  can  be  no  sin,  no 
difference  between  creeds ;  man  may  say  boldly  as  two  of 
the  earliest  mystics,  Hallaj  and  Bestam,  said,  "  I  am  God," 
since  light  reflected  is  still  light.  Shabistari  demands: 
"  What  are  mosque,  synagogue  and  monastery  ?  What 
value  have  they  in  presence  of  the  genuine  religion  of  the 
mind  and  the  heart,  free  from  every  bond  of  form?'1  So 
Omar  Khayyam  makes  sport  of  the  two  and  seventy  sects. 
What  is  heresy  to  him?    What  is  Islamism  or  sin  or  piety? 


xxviii  Introduction. 

God  alone  is  his  goal.  "  He  is  a  good  fellow  — all  will 
be  well,1'  he  says,  in  his  boldly  irreverent  style. 

Love  becomes  then  a  mystic  passion,  signifying  union 
with  God,  and  all  the  passionate  utterances  of  the  Persian 
poets  are  interpreted  in  a  manner  exactly  analogous  to  the 
ecclesiastical  explanation  of  the  Song  of  Solomon,  which  in 
its  outward  form  is  certainly  suggestive  of  anything  but 
spirituality. 

Sufism  is  a  form  of  mysticism.  The  Sufis  formed  a  body 
of  fanatic  believers,  living  in  monasteries  or  colleges  under 
the  guidance  of  an  acknowledged  master,  and  devoting 
their  lives  to  philosophic  study  and  to  works  of  ascetic 
charity.  The  origin  of  the  word  is  not  surely  known  ; 
but  some  would  derive  it  from  the  Greek  Sophia,  mean- 
ing wisdom,  for  of  course  Greek  philosophy  made  its 
way  to  Persia  in  very  early  days,  and  later  neo-Platonic 
and  gnostic  ideas  attached  themselves  to  Oriental 
thought. 

Abu  Said,  of  Khorasan,  who  died  in  1048,  is  said  to  have 
established  a  rule  for  the  mystics.  But  Abu  Hashim,  a 
native  of  Kufa,  who  died  at  Damascus  in  767,  has  the  rep- 
utation of  having  established  the  first  monastery,  or,  at 
least,  to  have  belonged  to  it.  The  spread  of  mysticism  in 
Persia  is  attributed,  in  no  small  measure,  to  the  ancient 
inheritance  of  the  people.  The  lofty  teachings  of  the 
Avesta  were  rendered  terrible  to  people  by  a  ritual  which 
was  only  equalled  in  its  barbarity  by  the  tabu  of  the  South 
Pacific.  Islam  freed  them  from  that  unspeakable  burden, 
but  the  lofty  teachings  still  remained  a  holy  memory.  The 
fatalism  which  undoubtedly  made  beggary  and  vagabond- 
age an  easy  and  welcome  refuge  for  the  lazy,  found  its 
loftiest  expression  in  many  of  the  Persian  poets :  in  Ubu 
Said,  Attar,  Rumi,  Sa'di,  and  Nasir. 

The  first  of  the  mystic  poets  was  Abu  Said  of  Khora- 
san, who  was  born  in  967,  and  died  in  1048.  The  accounts 
of  his  life  declare  that  he  was  converted  to  asceticism  by 


Introduction.  xxix 

a  crazy  man  named  Lokman.  Abu  Said  for  seven  years 
sat  in  one  corner  of  a  monastery,  crying,  "  God  !  God  !  " 
Thus  he  obtained  the  reputation  of  being  a  saint,  and  when 
he  removed  to  the  desert,  people  came  on  pilgrimages  to 
him,  and  bought  for  twenty  dinars  the  seeds  of  the  tama- 
rind fruit  from  the  tree  under  which  he  sat.  He  declared, 
wholly  in  the  spirit  of  mediaeval  ecclesiasticism.  "  the 
more  a  man  knows  of  this  world,  the  less  he  knows  of 
God,"  a  curious  modification  of  Christ's  command  to  be 
like  little  children.  When  asked  what  the  real  life  of  a 
Sufi  was,  he  replied,  "  To  put  from  the  body  all  thou 
hast,  give  all  that  thou  hast  in  thy  hand,  and  care  not 
whatever  may  befall.'1  Love,  according  to  him,  was  "the 
net  of  God,  whereby  he  catches  man.'"  He  was  the  friend 
of  Abu  Ali  Ibn  Sina  or  Avicenna,  who  said  of  him,  "He 
sees  all  that  I  know.11  Of  Abu  Sina,  he  said,  "  He  knows 
all  that  I  see.11  His  rubaiyat  are  passionate  to  a  de- 
gree :  — 

"  Let  Rizvan  angel  of  paradise  have  his  splendor,  let  the 
angels  have  their  praise"  he  sings,  "  let  the  guilty  suffer  in 
hell,  let  the  good  enjoy  paradise,  let  the  Kings  of  China  and 
Persia  and  Rum  have  this  world,  but  we  have  our  lovely 
ones,  our  lovely  ones  have  us!  " 

"  On  that  day  when  thou  shall  be  my  spouse,  I  shall  not 
envy  the  blessed  their  delights  in  paradise.  Without  thee 
heaven  were  a  desert ;  with  thee  the  desert  were  heaven." 

He  sings  of  spending  the  long  night  with  his  idol,  and  no 
end  of  their  sweet  intercourse  ensued  :  "  What  fault  has 
the  night?11  he  asks,  "  we  had  so  much  to  say!  " 

"/  said,  i  For  whom  adornest  thou  thyself  f  '  For  my 
own  pleasure,'1  she  replied.  ifor  I  am  the  only  one,  I  am 
love,  I  a?n  the  lover,  I  am  the  beautiful  one,  the  mirror  and 
the  beauty  which  beholds  itself  therein?  " 

"  Ah,  thou  whose  brow  is  like  the  moon  which  beautifies 
all  the  world,  thou  whom  to  be  with  both  night  and  day  all 
hearts  desire  —  if  thou  art  sweet  to  any  more  than  me, 


xxx  Introduction. 

alas!  how  full  of  woe  am  II  How  unhappy  all  the  rest 
if  thou  to  thou  art  what  thou  art  to  me !  " 

Here,  as  everywhere,  the  beloved  one  thus  passionately 
adored  is  God. 

Nasir,  the  son  of  Khusrev,  another  of  the  mystic  poets, 
was  born  in  Balkh  in  1003.  He  was  in  the  service  of  the 
Seljukian  Prince  Chakar-beg  Daud ;  but,  when  he  was 
about  forty,  he  was  admonished  in  a  dream  to  go  to  Mecca. 
Then  he  travelled  for  seven  years,  and  wrote  a  description 
of  his  adventures.  He  was  also  author  of  the  mystic 
Rushanai  Nameh  or  Book  of  Light.  His  acquaintance 
with  the  world  opened  his  mind,  and  he  was  persecuted 
as  a  heretic ;  consequently  he  returned  to  Yumgan  in  the 
province  of  Badakhshan,  and  lived  there  in  solitude,  vis- 
ited occasionally  by  the  devout.  He  had  a  few  ardent 
followers.  There  he  died  in  1088.  The  principal  founda- 
tion of  his  teachings  was  the  Greek  injunction,  "  Know  thy- 
self." Only  by  self-knowledge  can  one  know  God.  And 
he  sings  God's  praise  and  proclaims  the  vanity  of  all 
earthly  things.  Sufficient  happiness  for  him  is  a  garden, 
and  if  in  that  garden  he  has  his  friend,  "  then  the  Spring 
Roses  bloom,  and  those  roses  have  no  thorns." 

Still  another  of  the  minor  mystic  poets  was  Afzal-ud-Din 
Ibrahim  Ibn  Ali  Shirvani,  known  as  Khakani  because  he 
lived  at  the  court  of  the  Prince  of  Shirvan,  Khakan  Kabir 
Minochihr.  He  was  born  about  1040.  He  was  dis- 
gusted with  court  life,  and  determined  to  retire  from  the 
world  and  to  live  like  a  dervish  But  the  Sultan  would 
not  hear  to  it.  He  therefore  escaped  from  the  court,  but 
was  captured,  brought  back,  and  confined  for  seven  months 
in  the  castle  of  Shabran,  where  he  had  many  Christians  as 
his  companions.  During  his  confinement  he  composed  a 
kasida  full  of  bitter  complaints,  and  speaking  so  freely  of 
other  religions  that  a  friend  of  his  wrote  a  commentary  on  it 
to  remove  the  suspicion  that  Khakani  was  not  a  good  Mo- 
hammedan.   On  his  release,  he  remained  for  a  time  at  court, 


Introduction.  xxxi 

but  was  at  last  permitted  to  make  a  pilgrimage  to  Mecca. 
He  described  his  journey  in  a  poem  called,  The  Gifts  of  the 
Two  Iraks.  He  went  to  Tabriz  to  the  court  of  Toghrul 
Beg,  the  last  of  the  Seljukian  Turks,  and  died  there  in 
1186,  or  possibly  1 193.  Many  of  his  poems  have  been 
preserved,  and  he  is  regarded  as  certainly  one  of  the  sweet- 
est lyric  voices  of  Persia.  What  could  be  lovelier  than 
his  ghazel,  which  begins,  "  /  do  not  seek  to  find  the  moon  : 
thy  face  is  moon  enough  for  me  I"  Of  course,  with  his 
yearning  for  the  ascetic  life,  the  Sufis  find  in  his  love  poems 
also  the  mystic  desire  of  uniting  his  soul  with  God's.  To 
him  the  meditations  of  the  mystic  life  were  preferable  to 
the  pleasures  of  the  world.  He,  like  all  the  East,  believed 
the  soul  of  man  to  be  but  an  emanation  from  the  essence 
of  God,  and  his  chief  desire  to  be  reabsorbed,  as  the  bubble 
on  the  ocean  breaks  and  falls  back  into  the  Infinite. 

Slightly  earlier  in  time  was  the  Shaikh  Sanai,  who  was 
born  at  Ghazni  about  11 18.  He,  like  many  of  the  other 
Persian  poets,  frequented  the  courts  of  the  Ghasnavide 
kings  and  princes,  and  celebrated  their  deeds  in  his  kasidas, 
but  his  conscience  was  awakened  when  he  overheard  some 
one  remark,  "  Sanai  with  his  learning  is  ignorant  of  the 
purpose  for  which  God  created  him;  when  he  appears 
before  his  Maker  and  is  asked  what  he  has  brought  with 
him,  he  will  be  able  only  to  show  panegyrics  on  kings  and 
princes  —  mortals  like  himself.11  The  same  critic,  who  was 
a  crazy  man,  predicted  that  he  would  become  blind. 

Sanai  took  these  words  to  heart  and  devoted  himself 
henceforth  to  the  religious  life,  seeking  instruction  from 
the  famous  Shaikh  Abu  Yusuf  of  Hamadan,  whose  college 
or  cell  was  called  the  Ka'ba  of  Khorasan.  It  is  said  that 
when  Bahram-Shah  desired  to  marry  him  to  his  sister,  he 
wrote  a  quatrain  declaring  that  he  was  not  a  man  for 
women,  honors,  or  gold,  but  all  he  wished  was  to  be  a 

1  Abu'l-Maj'd  Majdud  Ibn  Adam  Sanai. 


xxxii  Introduction. 

leader  of  religious  men.  His  chief  work  bears  the  Arabic 
title  of  Hadigat-ul-Haqiqat"  or  Garden  of  Truth,  ded- 
icated to  his  would-be  brother-in-law,  Bahram-Shah  of 
Ghazni.  It  is  divided  into  ten  books  and  has  been  com- 
pared to  Brunetto  Latini's  Tesoro  an  encyclopedic  med- 
ley of  all  that  was  known  in  his  day.  One  part  praises  the 
Koran,  another  declares  the  unity  of  God,  another  sings 
the  glory  of  Mahomet,  the  prophet  of  Ali  and  his  sons, 
martyrs  for  the  faith  ;  others  treat  of  human  reason,  of  the 
excellence  of  knowledge,  and  the  nature  of  love.  The  sixth 
part  sets  out  to  treat  of  the  spirit  of  the  universe,  but  the 
poet  gets  entangled  in  descriptions  of  spring  and  the  beauty 
of  the  herbage,  and  the  mystic  doctrine  still  holds  aloof.  In 
the  eighth  he  describes  the  stars  and  the  marvels  of  the 
heavens:  in  the  ninth  he  explains  the  nature  of  the  unios 
of  the  soul  with  God.  And  finally,  in  the  tenth  part,  he 
accumulates  all  that  he  should  have  logically  distributed 
through  the  other  nine,  and  so  extends  it  that  it  constitutes 
a  third  of  the  whole  work,  which  is  composed  of  eleven 
thousand  couplets. 

It  is  regarded  as  the  pattern  for  the  better  known  works 
of  Attar  and  Rumi. 


IX. 


Enough  has  been  said  to  show  that  the  Persian  litera- 
ture offers  a  vast  field  for  study.  The  present  volumes 
contain  selections  from  the  seven  principal  poets  of  Persia; 
they  had  naturally  to  be  taken  from  such  translations  as 
already  exist  in  English,  and  are  therefore  of  varying  value 
as  representing  the  originals.  But  assuredly  enough  of 
the  light  shines  through  the  more  or  less  translucent  me- 
dium to  give  a  pleasing  idea  of  the  wealth  of  poetry  which 
the  wonderful  land  of  Persia  inspired.  Much  of  what  is 
best  is  here  gathered,  and  whether  taken  in  its  liberal  or  its 


Introduction.  xxxiii 

esoteric  meaning,  will  find  a  response  in  the  hearts  of  those 
that  love  lofty  ideas  melodiously  expressed.1 

Nathan  Haskell  Dole. 
New  York,  April  27,  1901. 

1  Throughout  the  book  accents  have  been  purposely  omitted. 
The  question  of  the  transliteration  of  Persian  and  Arabic  words  and 
names,  many  of  which  have  consonantal  values  not  existing  in  Eng- 
lish, is  hopelessly  discordant  and  confused.  There  is  Muhammad, 
Mahomet,  Mohammed ;  there  is  Koran  and  Qu'ran  ;  there  is  Omar 
and  'Umer ;  there  is  Saadi  and  Sade  and  Sa'di ;  there  is  rubayat  and 
ruba'iyyat;  there  is  Kaiam,  Khayyam,  Kheyam ;  there  is  Makka, 
and  Mekka  and  Mecca;  Caliph,  and  Khalif  and  Kaleef;  Dervish 
and  Darwesh,  and  there  are  dozens  of  others.  Every  scholar  has 
had  apparently  his  own  scheme,  and  the  less  he  really  knew,  and  the 
more  he  wished  the  world  to  think  he  knew,  the  more  he  sophisti- 
cated his  spellings  with  breathings  and  accents  and  marks  of  quan- 
tity. Except  in  text-books,  such  affectations  are  impertinences  and 
repel  the  reader.  But  consistency  is  the  last  jewel  to  be  discovered 
in  the  spelling  of  Oriental  words. 


FLOWERS    FROM    PERSIAN    POETS. 


>xx< 


FIRDAUSI. 

Persian  poetry  begins  in  the  tenth  century  with  Fir- 
dausi,  and  practically  ends  in  the  fifteenth  with  Jami. 
The  number  of  minor  poets  scattered  through  this  time  is 
legion  ;  indeed  it  has  been  well  said  that  every  Persian  is 
born  with  a  song  on  his  lips.  But  of  the  famous  poets 
there  are  seven  preeminent,  sometimes  called  "  The  Persian 
Pleiades.1' 

Firdausi,  although  not  the  father  of  Persian  poetry,1  yet 
stands  as  the  Homer  of  the  East.  Of  his  life  we  know 
little.  His  real  name  was  Abul  Kasim.  He  was  born, 
according  to  Mohl,'2  in  the  year  ioio  a.d.,  at  Shadab,  a 
suburb  of  Tus,  a  city  in  Khorasan.  He  married  at  the  age 
of  twenty-eight,  and  lived  to  be  over  eighty. 

It  is  said  that  the  boyish  dream  of  this  future  Chaucer 
of  Persia  —  as  Miss  Costello  calls  him  —  was  to  have 
money  enough  to  build  a  dike  to  keep  the  river  which  ran 
through  his  father's  grounds3  from  overflowing  its  banks. 
This  dream  was  realized,  but  not  in  the  lifetime  of  Fir- 

1  Rudaki  was  the  father  of  Persian  poetry. 

2  Jules  de  Moh!,  the  great  French  authority.  Atkinson  places 
Firdausi's  birth  at  about  950  A.D. ;   Professor  Pizzi,  940  A.D. 

3  Firdausi's  father  is  said  to  have  been  gardener  for  the  Gov- 
ernor of  Tus.  According  to  some  authorities,  the  name  Firdausi, 
which  is  the  Persian  form  for  Paradise  or  Garden,  was  only  the 
poetic  takhallns  assumed  by  the  singer. 

I 


2  Firdausi. 

dausi.  Cheated,  wronged,  exiled,  he  died  in  obscurity,  a 
disappointed  old  man.  Such  was  the  reward  received  for 
thirty  years  spent  in  writing  the  Shah-Arameh,  or  Book  of 
Kings,  a  national  history  in  rhyme  covering  a  period  of 
3600  years,  from  Kaiumers,1  the  first  Pishdadian  king,  to 
the  death  of  Yezdjird  in  650  a.d.  This  book  is  called  the 
Iliad  of  the  East,  and  is,  by  the  way,  longer  than  the  Iliad 
and  Odyssey  together,  and  is  prized  by  Mohammedan 
nations  as  probably  their  greatest  work. 

Briefly,  this  is  the  story  of  the  Shah-Nameh,*  combina- 
tion of  fact  and  fiction  handed  down  by  the  oral  tradition. 

Yezdjird,  the  last  Sasanian  king,  collected  all  the  his- 
tories and  traditions  connected  with  Persia  and  had  them 
put  together.  These  formed  the  book  known  as  the 
Bustan-Namek,  which,  during  the  Arabian  conquest,  was 
found  in  the  sacked  library  belonging  to  Yezdjird.  His- 
torical chronicles  were  afterward  added,  bringing  it  down 
to  the  death  of  Yezdjird.  In  the  eleventh  century  this 
book  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  great  Mahmud  of  Ghazni, 
an  accomplished  monarch  who  had  already  ordered  a  his- 
tory of  Persia  to  be  written  in  verse.  From  the  Bustan- 
Nameh  he  selected  seven  stories,  which  he  distributed 
among  the  poets  of  his  court,  so  that  he  might  judge  of 
their  respective  merits  for  the  proposed  history.  To 
Unsari  fell  the  story  of  Rustem  and  Sohrab  ;  Rustem  is 
the  Persian  Hercules,  although  his  labors  were  but  seven 
instead  of  twelve.  With  this  story  Unsari  did  so  well 
that  at  first  to  him  was  given  the  honor  of  writing  the 
history  ordered  by  Mahmud.  Through  Unsari,  Firdausi, 
whose  genius  was  becoming  recognized,  was  brought  under 
the  patronage  of  the  Sultan.  The  story  of  how  this  hap- 
pened is  thus  related  :  — 

It  seems  that  Unsari  and  two  other  celebrated  poets, 
Asjedi  and  Farrukhi,  were  drinking  wine  in  a  fair  Persian 

1  Kaiumers  is  the  Adam  of  the  fire-worshippers,  grandson  of 
Noah,  according  to  the  Mohammedans. 


Firdausi.  3 

garden  near  Ghazni,  when  they  saw  a  stranger  approach, 
and  fearing  that  he  would  interrupt  them,  decided  to  rid 
themselves  of  him  by  telling  him  that  no  one  not  a  poet 
was  allowed  to  join  their  company.  When  Firdausi  de- 
clared that  he  also  was  a  poet,  they  thus  addressed  him  : 
"  Well,  then,  we  will  each  make  an  extemporaneous  verse, 
and  if  you  are  able  to  follow  them  up  with  promptitude  and 
effect,  you  shall  be  admitted  as  our  approved  companion.11 
Firdausi  expressed  his  willingness  to  submit  to  this  test, 
and  Unsari  thus  began  upon  an  apostrophe  to  a  beautiful 
woman,  making  use  of  a  word  to  which  they  knew  of  only 
two  possible  rhymes  :  — 

"  The  light  of  the  moon  in  thy  splendor  would  fail." 
Asjedi  rejoined :  — 

"  The  rose  in  the  bloom  of  thy  cheek  would  turn  pale." 
Then  Farrukhi :  — 

"  The  glance  of  thine  eye  darts  through  close-woven  mail." 

It  was  now  Firdausi's  turn ;  and  he  said  without  a 
moment's  pause,  but  with  admirable  felicity  :  — 

"  Like  the  spear-thrusts  of  Ghiv,  Poshen's  armor  assail." 

The  poets  were  astonished  at  the  readiness  of  the 
stranger;  and  being  totally  ignorant  of  the  story  of  Ghiv 
and  Poshen,  inquired  of  him  from  whence  it  was  derived ; 
when  Firdausi  related  to  them  the  encounter  as  described 
in  the  Bustan-Na?neh.  Atkinson  says  that  "  they  treated 
him  with  the  greatest  kindness  and  respect,  and  were  so 
pleased  with  the  power  and  genius  he  displayed  on  other 
subjects,  that  they  recommended  him  to  the  patronage  of 
Shah  Mahmud."  Other  authorities  state  that  they  were 
jealous  of  him  and  interposed  obstacles  in  his  way.  How- 
ever it  was,  he  was  brought  to  the  notice  of  Mahmud,  who 
became  so  delighted  with  him  that  no  honors  seemed  too 
great  to  bestow  upon  him.  One  legend  has  it  that  he 
gave  to  the  young  poet  the  surname  of  Firdausi,  saying: 


4  Fir  da  it  si. 

"You  have  made  my  court  as  resplendent  as  Firdus" 
(Paradise).  He  also  promised  him  for  every  thousand 
couplets  a  thousand  pieces  of  gold. 

So  for  years  Firdausi  sunned  himself  in  royal  favor, 
living  near  the  palace  in  a  beautiful  house  given  him  by 
the  Sultan.  The  walls  were  decorated  with  martial  scenes 
painted  by  the  great  artists  of  Persia,  in  order  to  fire  the 
imagination  of  the  poet. 

His  work  begins  with  a  eulogy  of  the  Sultan ;  a  verse  of 
u  hich  is  as  follows  :  — 

"  Praise,  praise  to  Mahmud,  who  of  like  renown, 
In  battle  or  the  banquet,  fills  the  throne; 
Lord  of  the  realms  of  Chin  and  Hindustan, 
Sovereign  and  Lord  of  Persia  and  Turan, 
With  his  loud  voice  he  rends  the  flintiest  ear; 
On  the  land  a  tiger  fierce,  untouched  by  fear, 
And  on  the  wave,  he  seems  the  crocodile 
That  prowls  amidst  the  waters  of  the  Nile. 
Generous  and  brave,  his  equal  is  unknown ; 
In  deeds  of  princely  worth  he  stands  alone. 
The  infant  in  the  cradle  lisps  his  name; 
The  world  exults  in  Mahmud's  spotless  fame. 
In  festive  hours  Heaven  smiles  upon  his  truth; 
In  combat  deadly  as  the  dragon's  tooth; 
Bounteous  in  all  things,  his  exhaustless  hand 
Diffuses  blessings  through  the  grateful  land; 
And,  of  the  noblest  thoughts  and  actions,  lord; 
The  soul  of  Gabriel  breathes  in  every  word. 
May  Heaven  with  added  glory  crown  his  days  ; 
Praise,  praise  to  mighty  Mahmud—  everlasting  praise!  " 

For  thirty  years  Firdausi  worked  on  the  sixty  thousand 
couplets1  of  the  Shah-Nameh,  refusing  any  money  for  it 
until  it  should  be  finished.  In  the  eleventh  century 
it  was  completed.  Now,  at  this  time  there  was  in  the 
court  a  Prime  Minister,  Hasan  Meymendi,  a  conceited 
favorite  of  the  Sultan.  He,  being  jealous  of  the  Persian 
poet  laureate,  who  had  not  celebrated  him  in  the  poem, 

1  Few  copies  now  contain  the  original  number. 


Firdausi.  5 

used  every  means  to  injure  him  with  the  Sultan.  When 
the  elephant  loaded  with  the  promised  payment  reached 
Firdausi,  imagine  his  surprise  to  find  the  gold  had  been 
changed  into  silver  !  He  was  in  a  public  bath  at  the  time 
that  the  gift  came,  and  was  so  enraged  that  he  recklessly 
gave  away  the  whole  amount,  a  third  of  which  went  to  the 
slave  who  brought  it.  "  The  Sultan  shall  know,"  said  he, 
"that  I  did  not  bestow  the  labor  of  thirty  years  on  a  work 
to  be  rewarded  with  dirhems1!"  The  Sultan  was  at  first 
ashamed  of  Hasan's  unworthy  treatment  of  Firdausi,  but 
the  clever  and  malicious  minister,  aided  by  jealous  poets, 
argued  that  the  Shah-Nameh  was  heretical,  and  finally 
Mahmud  sentenced  Firdausi  to  be  trampled  to  death  by 
elephants.  Firdausi  happened  to  meet  Mahmud  in  his 
garden  and  improvised  some  verses  in  his  honor,  and  was 
pardoned.  But  he  found  it  advisable  to  leave  the  city  ;  this 
he  did  at  night  and  alone  ;  but  he  left  behind  him  the 
following  famous  satire,  the  most  bitter  ever  penned:  — 

"  And  thou  vvouldst  hurl  me  underneath  the  tread 
Of  the  wild  elephant,  till  I  were  dead  ! 
Dead!  by  that  insult  roused,  I  should  become 
An  elephant  in  power,  and  seal  thy  doom  — 
Mahmud  !  if  fear  of  man  hath  never  awed 
Thy  heart,  at  least  fear  thy  Creator,  God. 
Full  many  a  warrior  of  illustrious  worth, 
Full  many  of  humble,  of  imperial  birth: 
Tur,  Selim,  Jemshid,  Minuchihr  the  brave, 
Have  died;  for  nothing  had  the  power  to  save 
These  mighty  monarchs  from  the  common  doom; 
They  died,  but  blest  in  memory  still  they  bloom. 
Thus  kings,  too,  perish  —  none  on  earth  remain, 
Since  all  things  human  seek  the  dust  again. 

O,  had  thy  father  graced  a  kingly  throne, 
Thy  mother  been  for  royal  virtues  known, 
A  different  fate  the  poet  then  had  shared, 
Honors  and  wealth  had  been  his  just  reward; 

1  Small  silver  pieces. 


6  Firdausu 

But  how  remote  from  thee  a  glorious  line! 

No  high,  ennobling  ancestry  is  thine; 

From  a  vile  stock  thy  bold  career  began, 

A  Blacksmith  was  thy  sire  of  Isfahan. 

Alas !  from  vice  can  goodness  ever  spring? 

Is  mercy  hoped  for  in  a  tyrant  king  ? 

Can  water  wash  the  Ethiopian  white  ? 

Can  we  remove  the  darkness  from  the  night  ? 

The  tree  to  which  the  bitter  fruit  is  given, 

Would  still  be  bitter  in  the  bowers  of  Heaven  ; 

And  a  bad  heart  still  keeps  its  vicious  course ; 

Or  if  it  changes,  changes  for  the  worse ; 

Whilst  streams  of  milk,  where  Eden's  flovvrets  blow, 

Acquire  more  honeyed  sweetness  as  they  flow. 

The  reckless  king  who  grinds  the  poor,  like  thee, 

Must  ever  be  consigned  to  infamy ! 

******* 
The  toil  of  thirty  years  is  now  complete, 
Record  sublime  of  many  a  warlike  feat, 
Written  midst  toil  and  trouble,  but  the  strain 
Awakens  every  heart,  and  will  remain 
A  lasting  stimulus  to  glorious  deeds; 
For  even  the  bashful  maid,  who  kindling  reads, 
Becomes  a  warrior.     Thirty  years  of  care, 
Urged  on  by  royal  promise,  did  I  bear, 
And  now,  deceived  and  scorned,  the  aged  bard 
Is  basely  cheated  of  his  pledged  reward !  " 

Then,  like  Dante,  the  white-haired  old  man  became  a 
wanderer. 

At  Baghdad  he  was  a  great  favorite  of  the  Kalif,  in 
whose  honor,  according  to  one  legend,  he  added  a  thou- 
sand couplets  to  the  Shah-Nameh 1  and  was  rewarded 
with  the  sixty  thousand  gold  dinars'2  that  the  Sultan  had 
promised  but  never  given  him.  He  also  wrote  a  short 
poem  called  "  Yusuf  and  Zulaikha " ;  later  remodelled 
by  Jami.3     After  Firdausi's   escape   the   enraged    Sultan, 

1  This  addition  is  found  only  in  one  Ms.,  and  is  generally  be- 
lieved at  the  present  time  to  be  apochryphal. 

2  Gold  coin  worth  about  52.50. 

3  See  Vol.  II. 


Firdausi.  7 

hearing  that  he  was  at  Baghdad,  sent  to  the  Calif  demand- 
ing his  return,  but  the  poet  finally  sought  refuge  at  Rustem- 
dar,  where  the  governor  offered  him  a  certain  amount  of 
gold  if  he  would  cancel  the  Satire  against  Mahmud.  This 
Firdausi  consented  to  do,  and  then  he  returned  to  Tus, 
where  his  old  teacher,  Essedi,1  still  lived. 

In  the  meantime  the  Sultan  had  learned  of  his  minister's 
treachery,  and  had  compelled  him  to  pay  back  the  sixty 
thousand  pieces  of  gold  he  had  kept  Firdausi  from  receiv- 
ing. He  also  banished  him  from  court  forever.  Regret 
at  losing  Firdausi,  the  greatest  ornament  of  his  court, 
and  remorse  for  the  treatment  the  poet  had  received  at 
his  hands  so  weighed  on  the  Sultan,  that  he  finally  en- 
deavored to  make  reparation.  Learning  that  Firdausi  was 
living  obscurely  at  Tus,  he  sent  him  the  long-delayed  pay- 
ment, together  with  camels  loaded  with  princely  gifts ;  but 
too  late  !  The  royal  retinue  met  the  funeral  of  the  great 
poet  at  the  city  gates.  Firdausi's  tomb  was  in  a  garden  near 
the  city  of  Tus,  and  was  once  eagerly  visited  by  pilgrims. 

The  money  was  paid  to  the  poet's  daughter,  but  she 
disdainfully  refused  it.  However,  relatives  took  it  and 
built  with  it  a  bridge,  the  dreamed-of  dike,  and  a  house  of 
refuge  for  travellers,  all  of  which  memorials  are  now 
gone.  But  his  fame  lives  on,  and  even  now  cities  and 
towns  bear  the  names  of  the  heroes  from  the  Shah-Nameh, 
which  has  lived  through  nine  centuries. 

There  are  innumerable  manuscript  copies  of  this  great 
work  in  Persian.  These  manuscripts  are  wonderfully 
beautiful.  The  scribes  use  Egyptian  reeds  and  the  black- 
est of  ink  which  never  loses  its  color.  The  favorite  works 
of  the  poets  are  usually  written  on  the  finest  of  silky 
paper,  powdered  with  gold  or  silver  dust.  The  margins 
are  richly  illuminated  and  the  whole  perfumed  with  sandal- 
wood or  some  costly  essence.  The  illuminated  title  pages 
are  of  elaborate  design. 

Essedi :  see  Appendix. 


8  Firdausi. 

Among  the  many  episodes  of  this  epic,  among  its 
dragons  and  its  giant  feats  of  valor,  perhaps  the  most 
moving  is  the  famous  poem  of  Sohrab,  a  poem  made 
familiar  to  all  English  readers  by  Mr.  Matthew  Arnold. 

It  was  no  idle  boast  of  Firdausi's  when  he  said  that  he 
should  write  — 

"  What  no  tide 
Shall  ever  wash  away,  what  men 
Unborn  shall  read  o'er  ocean  wide." 


SOHRAB.1 

O  ye,  who  dwell  in  Youth's  inviting  bowers, 

Waste  not,  in  useless  joy,  your  fleeting  hours, 

But  rather  let  the  tears  of  sorrow  roll, 

And  sad  reflection  fill  the  conscious  soul. 

For  many  a  jocund  spring  has  passed  away, 

And  many  a  flower  has  blossomed,  to  decay ; 

And  human  life,  still  hastening  to  a  close, 

Finds  in  the  worthless  dust  its  last  repose. 

Still  the  vain  world  abounds  in  strife  and  hate, 

And  sire  and  son  provoke  each  other's  fate  ; 

And  kindred  blood  by  kindred  hands  is  shed, 

And  vengeance  sleeps  not  —  dies  not,  with  the  dead. 

All  nature  fades  —  the  garden's  treasures  fall, 

Young  bud,  and  citron  ripe  —  all  perish,  all. 

And  now  a  tale  of  sorrow  must  be  told, 

A  tale  of  tears,  derived  from  Mubid  old, 
And  thus  remembered. — 

With  the  dawn  of  day, 

1  Mr.  James  Atkinson's  translation. 


Sohrab.  9 

Rustem  arose,  and  wandering  took  his  way, 

Armed  for  the  chase,  where  sloping  to  the  sky, 

Turan's  lone  wilds  in  sullen  grandeur  lie  ; 

There,  to  dispel  his  melancholy  mood, 

He  urged  his  matchless  steed  through  glen  and  wood. 

Flushed  with  the  noble  game  which  met  his  view, 

He  starts  the  wild-ass  o'er  the  glistening  dew ; 

And,  oft  exulting,  sees  his  quivering  dart, 

Plunge    through    the    glossy   skin,    and    pierce    the 

heart.  — 
Tired  of  the  sport,  at  length,  he  sought  the  shade, 
Which  near  a  stream  embowering  trees  displayed, 
And  with  his  arrow's  point,  a  fire  he  raised, 
And  thorns  and  grass  before  him  quickly  blazed. 
The  severed  parts  upon  a  bough  he  cast, 
To  catch  the  flames,  and  when  the  rich  repast 
Was  drest,  with  flesh  and  marrow,  savory  food, 
He  quelled  his  hunger ;  and  the  sparkling  flood 
That  murmured  at  his  feet  his  thirst  represt ; 
Then  gentle  sleep  composed  his  limbs  to  rest. 

Meanwhile  his  horse,  for  speed  and  form  renown'd, 
Ranged  o'er  the  plain  with  flowery  herbage  crown'd, 
Encumbering  arms  no  more  his  sides  opprest, 
No  folding  mail  confined  his  ample  chest,1 
Gallant  and  free,  he  left  the  Champion's  side, 
And  cropp'd  the  mead,  or  sought  the  cooling  tide ; 
When  lo  !  it  chanced  amid  the  woodland  chase, 
A  band  of  horsemen,  rambling  near  the  place, 

1  The  armor  called  Burgustuvvan  almost  covered  the  horse,  and 
was  usually  made  of  leather  and  felt-cloth. 


10  Firdausi. 

Saw,  with  surprise,  superior  game  astray, 

And  rushed  at  once  to  seize  the  noble  prey ; 

But,  in  the  imminent  struggle,  two  beneath 

His  steel-clad  hoofs  received  the  stroke  of  death  ; 

One  proved  a  sterner  fate  —  for  downward  borne, 

The  mangled  head  was  from  the  shoulders  torn. 

Still  undismayed,  again  they  nimbly  sprung, 

And  round  his  neck  the  noose  entangling  flung : 

Now,  all  in  vain,  he  spurns  the  smoking  ground, 

In  vain  the  tumult  echoes  all  around ; 

They  bear  him  off,  and  view,  with  ardent  eyes, 

His  matchless  beauty  and  majestic  size ; 

Then  soothe  his  fury,  anxious  to  obtain, 

A  bounding  steed  of  his  immortal  strain. 

When  Rustem  woke,  and  miss'd  his  favorite  horse, 
The  loved  companion  of  his  glorious  course  ; 
Sorrowing  he  rose,  and,  hastening  thence,  began 
To  shape  his  dubious  way  to  Samengan  ; 
"  Reduced  to  journey  thus,  alone  !  "  he  said, 
"How  pierce  the  gloom  which  thickens  round   my 

head; 
Burthen'd,  on  foot,  a  dreary  waste  in  view, 
Where  shall  I  bend  my  steps,  what  path  pursue? 
The  scoffing  Turks  will  cry,  '  Behold  our  might ! 
We  won  the  trophy  from  the  Champion-knight ! 
From  him  who,  reckless  of  his  fame  and  pride, 
Thus  idly  slept,  and  thus  ignobly  died.'  " 
Girding  his  loins  he  gathered  from  the  field, 
His  quivered  stores,  his  beamy  sword  and  shield, 
Harness  and  saddle-gear  were  o'er  him  slung, 


Sohrab.  11 

Bridle  and  mail  across  his  shoulders  hung.1 
Then  looking  round,  with  anxious  eye,  to  meet, 
The  broad  impression  of  his  charger's  feet,2 
The  track  he  hail'd,  and  following,  onward  prest, 
While  grief  and  hope  alternate  filled  his  breast. 

O'er  vale  and  wild-wood  led,  he  soon  descries, 
The  regal  city's  shining  turrets  rise. 
And  when  the  Champion's  near  approach  is  known, 
The  usual  homage  waits  him  to  the  throne. 
The  King,  on  foot,  received  his  welcome  guest 
With  proffered  friendship,  and  his  coming  blest : 
But  Rustem  frowned,  and  with  resentment  fired, 
Spoke  of  his  wrongs,  the  plundered  steed  required. 
"  I've  traced  his  footsteps  to  your  royal  town, 
Here  must  he  be,  protected  by  your  crown ; 
But  if  retained,  if  not  from  fetters  freed, 
My  vengeance  shall  o'ertake  the  felon-deed." 

"  My  honored  guest ! "  the  wondering  King  replied, — 
"  Shall  Rustem's  wants  or  wishes  be  denied  ? 
But  let  not  anger,  headlong,  fierce,  and  blind, 
O'ercloud  the  virtues  of  a  generous  mind. 

1  In  this  hunting  excursion  he  is  completely  armed,  being  supplied 
with  spear,  sword,  shield,  mace,  bow  and  arrows.  Like  the  knight- 
errants  of  after  times,  he  seldom  even  slept  unarmed.  Single  com- 
bat and  the  romantic  enterprises  of  European  chivalry  may  indeed 
be  traced  to  the  East.  Rustem  was  a  most  illustrious  example  of  all 
that  is  pious,  disinterested,  and  heroic.  The  adventure  now  describ- 
ing is  highly  characteristic  of  a  chivalrous  age. 

2  See  the  Story  of  the  Horse  in  Zadig,  which  is  doubtless  of  Ori- 
ental origin.  In  the  upper  parts  of  Hindustan,  it  is  said  that  the 
people  are  exceedingly  expert  in  discovering  robbers  by  tracing  the 
marks  of  their  horses'  feet.  These  mounted  robbers  are  called  Kus- 
saks.     The  Russian  Cossack  is  probably  derived  from  the  same  word. 


12  Firdausi. 

If  still  within  the  limits  of  my  reign, 
The  well-known  courser  shall  be  thine  again  : 
For  Rakush  never  can  remain  concealed, 
No  more  than  Rustem  in  the  battle-field  ! 
Then  cease  to  nourish  useless  rage,  and  share 
With  joyous  heart  my  hospitable  fare." 

The  son  of  Zal  now  felt  his  wrath  subdued, 
And  glad  sensations  in  his  soul  renewed. 
The  ready  herald  by  the  King's  command, 
Convened  the  Chiefs  and  Warriors  of  the  land  ; x 
And  soon  the  banquet  social  glee  restored, 
And  China  wine-cups  glittered  on  the  board  ; 
And  cheerful  song,  and  music's  magic  power, 
And  sparkling  wine,  beguiled  the  festive  hour.2 
The  dulcet  draughts  o'er  Rustem's  senses  stole, 
And  melting  strains  absorbed  his  softened  soul. 
But  when  approached  the  period  of  repose, 
All,  prompt  and  mindful,  from  the  banquet  rose  ; 
A  couch  was  spread  well  worthy  such  a  guest, 
Perfumed  with  rose  and  musk  ;  and  whilst  at  rest, 
In  deep  sound  sleep,  the  wearied  Champion  lay, 
Forgot  were  all  the  sorrows  of  the  way. 

Rustem  meets  Tahmineh. 

One  watch  had  passed,  and  still  sweet  slumber  shed 
Its  magic  power  around  the  hero's  head  — 

1  Thus  Alkinoos  convenes  the  chiefs  of  Phaiakia  in   honor   of 
Odysseus. 

2  The  original  gives  to  the  singers  black  eyes  and  cheeks  like 
roses.    These  women  are  generally  known  by  the  term  Lulian,  per- 


Sohrab.  13 

When  forth  Tahmineh  came,  —  a  damsel  held 

An  amber  taper,  which  the  gloom  dispelled, 

And  near  his  pillow  stood ;  in  beauty  bright, 

The  monarch's  daughter  struck  his  wondering  sight. 

Clear  as  the  moon,  in  glowing  charms  arrayed. 

Her  winning  eyes  the  light  of  heaven  displayed  ; 

Her  cypress  form  entranced  the  gazer's  view, 

Her  waving  curls,  the  heart,  resistless,  drew, 

Her  eyebrows  like  the  Archer's  bended  bow ; 

Her  ringlets,  snares ;  her  cheek,  the  rose's  glow,1 

Mixed  with  the  lily,  —  from  her  ear-tips  hung 

Rings  rich  and  glittering,  star-like  ;  and  her  tongue, 

And  lips,  all  sugared  sweetness  —  pearls  the  while 

Sparkled  within  a  mouth  formed,  to  beguile. 

Her  presence  dimmed  the  stars,  and  breathing  round 

Fragrance  and  joy,  she  scarcely  touched  the  ground,2 

So  light  her  step,  so  graceful  —  every  part 

Perfect,  and  suited  to  her  spotless  heart. 

Rustem,  surprised,  the  gentle  maid  addressed, 


haps  referring  to  their  beauty,  as  Lulu  signifies  a  pearl,  a  gem,  a 
jewel ;  though  Lulu  is  also  the  name  of  a  people  or  tribe  of  Persia. 

1  "  Ensnaring  ringlets."    Thus  Shakespeare :  — 

"  Here  in  her  hairs, 
The  painter  plays  the  Spider  —  and  hath  woven 
A  golden  mesh  to  entrap  the  hearts  of  men, 
Faster  than  gnats  in  cobwebs.     But  her  eyes !  " 

Merchant  of  Venice,  iii.  2. 

2  Beauty  and  fragrance  are  amongst  the  poets  inseparable.  The 
Persians  exceed  even  the  Greeks  in  their  love  of  perfume,  though 
Anacreon  thought  it  so  indispensable  a  part  of  beauty,  that  in  direct- 
ing the  Rhodian  artist  to  paint  the  mistress  of  his  heart,  he  wishes 
even  her  fragrance  to  be  portrayed. 


14  Firdausi. 

And  asked  what  lovely  stranger  broke  his  rest. 

"  What  is  thy  name,"  he  said,  —  "  what  dost  thou  seek 

Amidst  the  gloom  of  night  ?     Fair  vision  speak  !  " 

"  O  thou,"  she  softly  sigh'd,  "  of  matchless  fame  ! 
With  pity  hear,  Tahmineh  is  my  name  ! 
The  pangs  of  love  my  anxious  heart  employ, 
And  flattering  promise  long-expected  joy ; 
No  curious  eye  has  yet  these  features  seen, 
My  voice  unheard,  beyond  the  sacred  screen.1 
How  often  have  I  listened  with  amaze, 
To  thy  great  deeds,  enamoured  of  thy  praise  ; 
How  oft  from  every  tongue  I've  heard  the  strain, 
And  thought  of  thee  —  and  sighed,  and  sighed  again. 
The  ravenous  eagle,  hovering  o'er  his  prey, 
Starts  at  thy  gleaming  sword  and  flies  away  : 
Thou  art  the  slayer  of  the  Demon  brood, 
And  the  fierce  monsters  of  the  echoing  wood. 
Where'er  thy  mace  is  seen,  shrink  back  the  bold, 
Thy  javelin's  flash  all  tremble  to  behold. 
Enchanted  with  the  stories  of  thy  fame, 
My  fluttering  heart  responded  to  thy  name ; 
And  whilst  their  magic  influence  I  felt, 
In  prayer  for  thee  devotedly  I  knelt ; 
And  fervent  vowed,  thus  powerful  glory  charms, 
No  other  spouse  should  bless  my  longing  arms.2 

1  As  a  proof  of  her  innocence  Tahmineh  declares  to  Rustem,  "  No 
person  has  ever  seen  me  out  of  my  private  chamber,  or  even  heard 
the  sound  of  my  voice." 

2  Josephus  has  recorded  that  the  king's  daughter  betrayed  the 
city  of  Saba,  in  Ethiopia,  into  the  hands  of  Moses,  having  become 
enamoured  of  him  by  seeing  from  the  walls  the  valor  and  bravery 


Sohrab.  1 5 

Indulgent  heaven  propitious  to  my  prayer, 

Now  brings  thee  hither  to  reward  my  care. 

Turan's  dominions  thou  hast  sought,  alone, 

By  night,  in  darkness  —  thou,  the  mighty  one  ! 

O  claim  my  hand,  and  grant  my  soul's  desire ; 

Ask  me  in  marriage  of  my  royal  sire ; 

Perhaps  a  boy  our  wedded  love  may  crown, 

Whose  strength  like  thine  may  gain  the  world's  renown. 

Nay  more  —  for  Samengan  will  keep  my  word,  — 

Rakush  to  thee  again  shall  be  restored." 

The  damsel  thus  her  ardent  thought  expressed, 
And  Rustem's  heart  beat  joyous  in  his  breast, 
Hearing  her  passion  —  not  a  word  was  lost, 
And  Rakush  safe,  by  him  still  valued  most ; 
He  called  her  near ;  with  graceful  step  she  came, 
And  marked  with  throbbing  pulse  his  kindled  flame. 

The  Marriage. 

And  now  a  Mubid,  from  the  Champion-knight, 
Requests  the  royal  sanction  to  the  rite  ; 
O'erjoyed,  the  King  the  honored  suit  approves, 
O'erjoyed  to  bless  the  doting  child  he  loves, 
And  happier  still,  in  showering  smiles  around, 
To  be  allied  to  warrior  so  renowned. 
When  the  delighted  father,  doubly  blest, 
Resigned  his  daughter  to  his  glorious  guest, 

which  he  displayed  at  the  head  of  the  Egyptian  army.  Dido  was 
won  by  the  celebrity  of  ^Eneas.  Kotzebue  has  drawn  Elvira  enam- 
oured of  the  fame  and  glory  of  Pizarro. 

The  lovely  Desdemona  affords  another  instance. 


16  Firdausi. 

The  people  shared  the  gladness  which  it  gave, 

The  union  of  the  beauteous  and  the  brave. 

To  grace  their  nuptial  day  —  both  old  and  young, 

The  hymeneal  gratulations  sung  : 

"  May  this  young  moon  bring  happiness  and  joy, 

And  every  source  of  enmity  destroy." 

The  marriage -bower  received  the  happy  pair, 

And  love  and  transport  shovver'd  their  blessings  there. 

Ere  from  his  lofty  sphere  the  morn  had  thrown 
His  glittering  radiance,  and  in  splendor  shone, 
The  mindful  Champion,  from  his  sinewy  arm, 
His  bracelet  drew,  the  soul-ennobling  charm  ; 
And,  as  he  held  the  wondrous  gift  with  pride, 
He  thus  address'd  his  love-devoted  bride  ! 

"Take  this,"  he  said,  "and  if,  by  gracious  heaven, 
A  daughter  for  thy  solace  should  be  given, 
Let  it  among  her  ringlets  be  displayed, 
And  joy  and  honor  will  await  the  maid ; 
But  should  kind  fate  increase  the  nuptial  joy, 
And  make  thee  mother  of  a  blooming  boy, 
Around  his  arm  this  magic  bracelet  bind, 
To  fire  with  virtuous  deeds  his  ripening  mind  ; 
The  strength  of  Sam  will  nerve  his  manly  form, 
In  temper  mild,  in  valor  like  the  storm  ; 
His  not  the  dastard  fate  to  shrink,  or  turn 
From  where  the  lions  of  the  battle  burn  ; 
To  him  the  soaring  eagle  from  the  sky 
Will  stoop,  the  bravest  yield  to  him,  or  fly ; 
Thus  shall  his  bright  career  imperious  claim 
The  well- won  honors  of  immortal  fame  !  " 


Sohrab.  17 

Ardent  he  said,  and  kissed  her  eyes  and  face, 
And  lingering  held  her  in  a  fond  embrace. 

When  the  bright  sun  his  radiant  brow  displayed, 
And  earth  in  all  its  loveliest  hues  arrayed, 
The  Champion  rose  to  leave  his  spouse's  side, 
The  warm  affections  of  his  weeping  bride. 
For  her,  too  soon  the  winged  moments  flew, 
Too  soon,  alas  !  the  parting  hour  she  knew ; 
Clasped  in  his  arms,  with  many  a  streaming  tear, 
She  tried,  in  vain,  to  win  his  deafen'd  ear ; 
Still  tried,  ah  fruitless  struggle  !  to  impart, 
The  swelling  anguish  of  her  bursting  heart. 

The  father  now  with  gratulations  due 
Rustem  approaches,  and  displays  to  view 
The  fiery  war-horse,  —  welcome  as  the  light 
Of  heaven,  to  one  immersed  in  deepest  night ; 
The  Champion,  wild  with  joy,  fits  on  the  rein, 
And  girds  the  saddle  on  his  back  again  • 
Then  mounts,  and  leaving  sire  and  wife  behind, 
Onward  to  Sistan  rushes  like  the  wind. 

But  when  returned  to  Zabul's  friendly  shade, 
None  knew  what  joys  the  Warrior  had  delayed  ; 
Still,  fond  remembrance,  with  endearing  thought, 
Oft  to  his  mind  the  scene  of  rapture  brought. 

The  Birth  of  Sohrab. 

When  nine  slow-circling  months  had  roll'd  away, 
Sweet-smiling  pleasure  hailed  the  brightening  day  — 
A  wondrous  boy  Tahmineh's  tears  supprest, 


18  Firdausi. 

And  lulFd  the  sorrows  of  her  heart  to  rest; 
To  him,  predestined  to  be  great  and  brave, 
The  name  Sohrab  his  tender  mother  gave  ; 
And  as  he  grew,  amazed,  the  gathering  throng, 
Yiew'd  his  large  limbs,  his  sinews  firm  and  strong ; 
His  infant  years  no  soft  endearment  claimed  : 
Athletic  sports  his  eager  soul  inflamed ; 
Broad  at  the  chest  and  taper  round  the  loins, 
Where  to  the  rising  hip  the  body  joins ; 
Hunter  and  wrestler ;  and  so  great  his  speed, 
He  could  o'ertake,  and  hold  the  swiftest  steed. 
His  noble  aspect,  and  majestic  grace, 
Betrayed  the  offspring  of  a  glorious  race. 
How,  with  a  mother's  ever  anxious  love, 
Still  to  retain  him  near  her  heart  she  strove  ! 
For  when  the  father's  fond  inquiry  came, 
Cautious,  she  still  concealed  his  birth  and  name, 
And  feign'd  a  daughter  born,  the  evil  fraught 
With  misery  to  avert  —  but  vain  the  thought ; 
Not  many  years  had  passed,  with  downy  flight, 
Ere  he,  Tahmineh's  wonder  and  delight, 
With  glistening  eye,  and  youthful  ardor  warm, 
Filled  her  foreboding  bosom  with  alarm. 
"  O  now  relieve  my  heart !  "  he  said,  "  declare, 
From  whom  I  sprang  and  breathe  the  vital  air. 
Since,  from  my  childhood,  I  have  ever  been, 
Amidst  my  playmates  of  superior  mien  ; 
Should  friend  or  foe  demand  my  father's  name, 
Let  not  my  silence  testify  my  shame  ! 
If  still  concealed,  you  falter,  still  delay, 


Sohrab.  19 

A  mother's  blood  shall  wash  the  crime  away." 
"This  wrath  forego,"  the  mother  answering  cried, 
U  And  joyful  hear  to  whom  thou  art  allied. 
A  glorious  line  precedes  thy  destined  birth, 
The  mightiest  heroes  of  the  sons  of  earth. 
The  deeds  of  Sam  remotest  realms  admire, 
And  Zal,  and  Rustem  thy  illustrious  sire  !  " 

In  private,  then,  she  Rustem's  letter  placed 
Before  his  view,  and  brought  with  eager  haste 
Three  sparkling  rubies,  wedges  three  of  gold, 
From  Persia  sent  —  "Behold,"  she  said,  "behold 
Thy  father's  gifts,  will  these  thy  doubts  remove 
The  costly  pledges  of  paternal  love  ! 
Behold  this  bracelet  charm,  of  sovereign  power 
To  baffle  fate  in  danger's  awful  hour ; 
But  thou  must  still  the  perilous  secret  keep, 
Nor  ask  the  harvest  of  renown  to  reap  ; 
For  when,  by  this  peculiar  signet  known, 
Thy  glorious  father  shall  demand  his  son, 
Doomed  from  her  only  joy  in  life  to  part, 
O  think  what  pangs  will  rend  thy  mother's  heart !  — 
Seek  not  the  fame  which  only  teems  with  woe ; 
Afrasiyab  is  Rustem's  deadliest  foe  ! 
And  if  by  him  discovered,  him  I  dread, 
Revenge  will  fall  upon  thy  guiltless  head." 

The  youth  replied  :  "  In  vain  thy  sighs  and  tears, 
The  secret  breathes  and  mocks  thy  idle  fears. 
No  human  power  can  fate's  decrees  control, 
Or  check  the  kindled  ardor  of  my  soul. 
Then  why  from  me  the  bursting  truth  conceal? 


20  Firdausi. 

My  father's  foes  even  now  my  vengeance  feel  j 
Even  now  in  wrath  my  native  legions  rise, 
And  sounds  of  desolation  strike  the  skies ; 
Kaus  himself,  hurled  from  his  ivory  throne, 
Shall  yield  to  Rustem  the  imperial  crown, 
And  thou,  my  mother,  still  in  triumph  seen, 
Of  lovely  Persia  hailed  the  honored  queen  ! 
Then  shall  Turan  unite  beneath  my  band, 
And  drive  this  proud  oppressor  from  the  land  ! 
Father  and  Son,  in  virtuous  league  combined, 
No  savage  despot  shall  enslave  mankind ; 
When  Sun  and  Moon  o'er  heaven  refulgent  blaze, 
Shall  little  Stars  obtrude  their  feeble  rays?" 

He  paused,  and  then  :  "  O  mother,  I  must  now 
My  father  seek,  and  see  his  lofty  brow ; 
Be  mine  a  horse,  such  as  a  prince  demands, 
Fit  for  the  dusty  field,  a  warrior's  hands ; 
Strong  as  an  elephant  his  form  should  be, 
And  chested  like  the  stag,  in  motion  free, 
And  swift  as  bird,  or  fish ;  it  would  disgrace 
A  warrior  bold  on  foot  to  show  his  face." 

The  mother,  seeing  how  his  heart  was  bent, 
His  day-star  rising  in  the  firmament, 
Commands  the  stables  to  be  searched  to  find 
Among  the  steeds  one  suited  to  his  mind ; 
Pressing  their  backs  he  tries  their  strength  and  nerve, 
Bent  double  to  the  ground  their  bellies  curve  ; 
Not  one,  from  neighboring  plain  and  mountain  brought, 
Equals  the  wish  with  which  his  soul  is  fraught ; 
Fruitless  on  every  side  he  anxious  turns, 


Sohrab.  21 

Fruitless,  his  brain  with  wild  impatience  burns, 
But  when  at  length  they  bring  the  destined  steed, 
From  Rakush  bred,  of  lightning's  winged  speed, 
Fleet,  as  the  arrow  from  the  bow-string  flies, 
Fleet,  as  the  eagle  darting  through  the  skies, 
Rejoiced  he  springs,  and,  with  a  nimble  bound, 
Vaults  in  his  seat,  and  wheels  the  courser  round ; 
"  With  such  a  horse  —  thus  mounted,  what  remains  ? 
Kaus,  the  Persian  King,  no  longer  reigns  ! " 
High  flushed  he  speaks  —  with  youthful  pride  elate, 
Eager  to  crush  the  Monarch's  glittering  state ; 
He  grasps  his  javelin  with  a  hero's  might, 
And  pants  with  ardor  for  the  field  of  fight. 

Soon  o'er  the  realm  his  fame  expanding  spread, 
And  gathering  thousands  hasten'd  to  his  aid. 
His  Grandsire,  pleased,  beheld  the  warrior-train 
Successive  throng  and  darken  all  the  plain ; 
And  bounteously  his  treasures  he  supplied, 
Camels,  and  steeds,  and  gold.  —  In  martial  pride, 
Sohrab  was  seen  —  a  Grecian  helmet  graced 
His  brow  —  and  costliest  mail  his  limbs  embraced. 

Afrasiyab's  Scheme. 

Afrasiyab  now  hears  with  ardent  joy, 
The  bold  ambition  of  the  warrior-boy, 
Of  him  who,  perfumed  with  the  milky  breath 
Of  infancy,  was  threatening  war  and  death, 
And  bursting  sudden  from  his  mother's  side, 
Had  launched  his  bark  upon  the  perilous  tide. 


22  Firdausi. 

The  insidious  King  sees  well  the  tempting  hour, 
Favoring  his  arms  against  the  Persian  power, 
And  thence,  in  haste,  the  enterprise  to  share, 
Twelve  thousand  veterans  selects  with  care  ; 
To  Human  and  Barman  the  charge  consigns, 
And  thus  his  force  with  Samengan  combines ; 
But  treacherous  first  his  martial  chiefs  he  prest, 
To  keep  the  secret  fast  within  their  breast :  — 
"  For  this  bold  youth  must  not  his  father  know, 
Each  must  confront  the  other  as  his  foe,  — 
Such  is  my  vengeance  !     With  unhallowed  rage, 
Father  and  Son  shall  dreadful  battle  wage  ! 
Unknown  the  youth  shall  Rustem's  force  withstand, 
And  soon  o'erwhelm  the  bulwark  of  the  land. 
Rustem  removed,  the  Persian  throne  is  ours, 
An  easy  conquest  to  confederate  powers ; 
And  then,  secured  by  some  propitious  snare, 
Sohrab  himself  our  galling  bonds  shall  wear. 
Or  should  the  Son  by  Rustem's  falchion  bleed, 
The  father's  horror  at  that  fatal  deed, 
Will  rend  his  soul,  and  midst  his  sacred  grief, 
Kaus  in  vain  will  supplicate  relief." 

The  tutored  Chiefs  advance  with  speed,  and  bring 
Imperial  presents  to  the  future  king ; 
In  stately  pomp  the  embassy  proceeds ; 
Ten  loaded  camels,  ten  unrivalled  steeds, 
A  golden  crown,  and  throne,  whose  jewels  bright 
Gleam  in  the  sun,  and  shed  a  sparkling  light. 
A  letter  too  the  crafty  tyrant  sends, 
And  fraudful  thus  the  glorious  aim  commends. — 


Sohrab.  2} 

"  If  Persia's  spoils  invite  thee  to  the  field, 
Accept  the  aid  my  conquering  legions  yield ; 
Led  by  two  Chiefs  of  valor  and  renown, 
Upon  thy  head  to  place  the  kingly  crown." 

Elate  with  promised  fame,  the  youth  surveys 
The  regal  vest,  the  throne's  irradiant  blaze, 
The  golden  crown,  the  steeds,  the  sumptuous  load 
Of  ten  strong  camels,  craftily  bestowed  ; 
Salutes  the  Chiefs,  and  views  on  every  side, 
The  lengthening  ranks  with  various  arms  supplied. 
The  march  begins  —  the  brazen  drums  resound,1 
His  moving  thousands  hide  the  trembling  ground  ; 
For  Persia's  verdant  land  he  wields  the  spear, 
And  blood  and  havoc  mark  his  groaning  rear.2 

SOHRAB    MEETS    HujIR. 

To  check  the  Invader's  horror-spreading  course, 
The  barrier- fort  opposed  unequal  force  ; 
That  fort  whose  walls,  extending  wide,  contained 
The  stay  of  Persia,  men  to  battle  trained. 
Soon  as  Hujir  the  dusky  crowd  descried, 
He  on  his  own  presumptuous  arm  relied, 
And  left  the  fort ;  in  mail  with  shield  and  spear, 
Vaunting  he  spoke,  —  "  What  hostile  force  is  here  ? 

1  Kus  is  a  tymbal,  or  large  brass  drum,  which  is  beat  in  the  palaces 
or  camps  of  Eastern  princes. 

2  It  appears  throughout  the  Shah-Nameh  that  whenever  any  army 
was  put  in  motion,  the  inhabitants  and  the  country,  whether  hostile 
or  friendly,  were  equally  given  up  to  plunder  and  devastation. 

"  Everything  in  their  progress  was  burnt  and  destroyed." 


24  Firdausi. 

What  Chieftain  dares  our  warlike  realms  invade  ?  " 
"  And  who  art  thou  ?  "  Sohrab  indignant  said, 
Rushing  toward  him  with  undaunted  look  — 
"  Hast  thou,  audacious  !  nerve  and  soul  to  brook 
The  crocodile  in  fight,  that  to  the  strife 
Singly  thou  comest,  reckless  of  thy  life?" 
To  this  the  foe  replied  —  "A  Turk  and  I 
Have  never  yet  been  bound  in  friendly  tie ; 
And  soon  thy  head  shall,  severed  by  my  sword, 
Gladden  the  sight  of  Persia's  mighty  lord, 
While  thy  torn  limbs  to  vultures  shall  be  given, 
Or  bleach  beneath  the  parching  blast  of  heaven." 

The  youthful  hero  laughing  hears  the  boast, 
And  now  by  each  continual  spears  are  tost, 
Mingling  together  ;  like  a  flood  of  fire 
The  boaster  meets  his  adversary's  ire  ; 
The  horse  on  which  he  rides,  with  thundering  pace, 
Seems  like  a  mountain  moving  from  its  base  ; 1 
Sternly  he  seeks  the  stripling's  loins  to  wound, 
But  the  lance  hurtless  drops  upon  the  ground ; 
Sohrab,  advancing,  hurls  his  steady  spear 
Full  on  the  middle  of  the  vain  Hujir, 
Who  staggers  in  his  seat.     With  proud  disdain 
The  youth  now  flings  him  headlong  on  the  plain, 
And  quick  dismounting,  on  his  heaving  breast 
Triumphant  stands,  his  Khunjer  firmly  prest, 
To  strike  the  head  off,  —  but  the  blow  was  stayed  — 

1  The  simile  of  a  moving  mountain  occurs  in  the  Iliad.  Hector, 
with  his  white  plumes,  is  compared  to  a  moving  mountain  topped  with 
snow.    Bookxiii.,  754.    But  Vergil  added  considerably  to  this  image. 


Sohrab.  2  5 

Trembling,  for  life,  the  craven  boaster  prayed. 
That  mercy  granted  eased  his  coward  mind, 
Though,  dire  disgrace,  in  captive  bonds  confined, 
And  sent  to  Human,  who  amazed  beheld 
How  soon  Sohrab  his  daring  soul  had  quelled. 

A  Warrior  Maid. 

When  Gurd-afrid,  a  peerless  warrior-dame, 
Heard  of  the  conflict,  and  the  hero's  shame, 
Groans  heaved  her  breast,  and  tears  of  anger  flowed, 
Her  tulip  cheek  with  deeper  crimson  glowed ; 
Speedful,  in  arms  magnificent  arrayed, 
A  foaming  palfrey  bore  the  martial  maid ; 
The  burnished  mail  her  tender  limbs  embraced, 
Beneath  her  helm  her  clustering  locks  she  placed ; 
Poised  in  her  hand  an  iron  javelin  gleamed, 
And  o'er  the  ground  its  sparkling  lustre  streamed ; 
Accoutred  thus  in  manly  guise,  no  eye 
However  piercing  could  her  sex  descry  ; 
Now,  like  a  lion,  from  the  fort  she  bends, 
And  midst  the  foe  impetuously  descends ; 
Fearless  of  soul,  demands  with  haughty  tone, 
The.  bravest  chief,  for  warlike  valor  known, 
To  try  the  chance  of  fight.     In  shining  arms, 
Again  Sohrab  the  glow  of  battle  warms  ; 
With  scornful  smiles,  "Another  deer  !  "  he  cries, 
"  Come  to  my  victor-toils,  another  prize  !  " 
The  damsel  saw  his  noose  insidious  spread, 
And  soon  her  arrows  whizzed  around  his  head ; 


26  Firdausi. 

With  steady  skill  the  twanging  bow  she  drew, 

And  still  her  pointed  darts  unerring  flew ; 

For  when  in  forest  sports  she  touched  the  string, 

Never  escaped  even  bird  upon  the  wing ; 

Furious  he  burned,  and  high  his  buckler  held, 

To  ward  the  storm,  by  growing  force  impell'd  ; 

And  tilted  forward  with  augmented  wrath, 

But  Gurd-afrid  aspires  to  cross  his  path  ; 

Now  o'er  her  back  the  slacken'd  bow  resounds ; 

She  grasps  her  lance,  her  goaded  courser  bounds, 

Driven  on  the  youth  with  persevering  might  — 

Unconquer'd  courage  still  prolongs  the  fight ; 

The  stripling  Chief  shields  off  the  threaten 'd  blow, 

Reins  in  his  steed,  then  rushes  on  the  foe ; 

With  outstretch'd  arm,  he  bending  backward  hung, 

And,  gathering  strength,  his  pointed  javelin  flung  ; 

Firm  through  her  girdle  belt  the  weapon  went, 

And  glancing  down  the  polish'd  armor  rent. 

Staggering,  and  stunned  by  his  superior  force, 

She  almost  tumbled  from  her  foaming  horse, 

Yet  unsubdued,  she  cut  the  spear  in  two, 

And  from  her  side  the  quivering  fragment  drew, 

Then  gain'd  her  seat,  and  onward  urged  her  steed, 

But  strong  and  fleet  Sohrab  arrests  her  speed  :  , 

Strikes  off  her  helm,  and  sees  —  a  woman's  face, 

Radiant  with  blushes  and  commanding  grace  ! 

Thus  undeceived,  in  admiration  lost, 

He  cries,  "  A  woman,  from  the  Persian  host  ! 

If  Persian  damsels  thus  in  arms  engage, 

Who  shall  repel  their  warrior's  fiercer  rage  ?  " 


Sobrab.  27 

Then  from  his  saddle  thong — his  noose  he  drew, 
And  round  her  waist  the  twisted  loop  he  threw,  — 
"  Now  seek  not  to  escape,"  he  sharply  said, 
"  Such  is  the  fate  of  war,  unthinking  maid  ! 
And,  as  such  beauty  seldom  swells  our  pride, 
Vain  thy  attempt  to  cast  my  toils  aside." 

In  this  extreme,  but  one  resource  remained, 
Only  one  remedy  her  hope  sustained,  — 
Expert  in  wiles  each  siren-art  she  knew, 
And  thence  exposed  her  blooming  face  to  view ; 
Raising  her  full  black  orbs,  serenely  bright, 
In  all  her  charms  she  blazed  before  his  sight ; 1 
And  thus  addressed  Sohrab.  —  "  O  warrior  brave, 
Hear  me,  and  thy  imperilled  honor  save, 
These  curling  tresses  seen  by  either  host, 
A  woman  conquered,  whence  the  glorious  boast? 
Thy  startled  troops  will  know,  with  inward  grief, 
A  woman's  arm  resists  their  towering  chief, 
Better  preserve  a  warrior's  fair  renown, 
And  let  our  struggle  still  remain  unknown, 
For  who  with  wanton  folly  would  expose 
A  helpless  maid,  to  aggravate  her  woes ; 
The  fort,  the  treasure,  shall  thy  toils  repay, 
The  chief,  and  garrison,  thy  will  obey, 
And  thine  the  honors  of  this  dreadful  day." 

Raptured  he  gazed,  her  smiles  resistless  move 
The  wildest  transports  of  ungoverned  love. 
Her  face  disclosed  a  paradise  to  view, 

1  Gurd-afrid,  engaging  Sohrab,  is  exactly  the  Clorinda  of  Tasso 
engaging  Tancred,  in  the  third  canto  of  Gerusalemme  Liberata. 


28  Fir  dan  si. 

Eyes  like  the  fawn,  and  cheeks  of  rosy  hue  — 
Thus  vanquished,  lost,  unconscious  of  her  aim, 
And  only  struggling  with  his  amorous  flame, 
He  rode  behind,  as  if  compelled  by  fate, 
And  heedless  saw  her  gain  the  castle-gate. 

Safe  with  her  friends,  escaped  from  brand  and  spear, 
Smiling  she  stands,  as  if  unknown  to  fear. 
—  The  father  now,  with  tearful  pleasure  wild, 
Clasps  to  his  heart  his  fondly-foster'd  child ; 
The  crowding  warriors  round  her  eager  bend, 
And  grateful  prayers  to  favoring  heaven  ascend. 

Now  from  the  walls,  she,  with  majestic  air, 
Exclaims  :  "  Thou  warrior  of  Turan,  forbear  ! 
Why  vex  thy  soul,  and  useless  strife  demand  ! 
Go,  and  in  peace  enjoy  thy  native  land." 

Stern  he  rejoins  :  "  Thou  beauteous  tyrant  !  sav, 
Though  crown'd  with  charms,  devoted  to  betray, 
When  these  proud  walls,  in  dust  and  ruins  laid, 
Yield  no  defence,  and  thou  a  captive  maid, 
Will  not  repentance  through  thy  bosom  dart, 
And  sorrow  soften  that  disdainful  heart?" 

Quick  she  replied  :  "  O'er  Persia's  fertile  fields 
The  savage  Turk  in  vain  his  falchion  wields ; 
When  King  Kaus  this  bold  invasion  hears, 
And  mighty  Rustem  clad  in  arms  appears  ! 
Destruction  wide  will  glut  the  slippery  plain, 
And  not  one  man  of  all  thy  host  remain. 
Alas  !  that  bravery,  high  as  thine,  should  meet 
Amidst  such  promise,  with  a  sure  defeat, 
But  not  a  gleam  of  hope  remains  for  thee, 


Sohrab,  29 

Thy  wondrous  valor  cannot  keep  thee  free. 
Avert  the  fate  which  o'er  thy  head  impends, 
Return,  return,  and  save  thy  martial  friends  !  " 

Thus  to  be  scorned,  defrauded  of  his  prey, 
With  victory  in  his  grasp  —  to  lose  the  day  ! 
Shame  and  revenge  alternate  filled  his  mind ; 
The  suburb-town  to  pillage  he  consigned, 
And  devastation  —  not  a  dwelling  spared  ; 
The  very  owl  was  from  her  covert  scared ; 
Then  thus  :  "  Though  luckless  in  my  aim  to-day, 
To-morrow  shall  behold  a  sterner  fray ; 
This  fort,  in  ashes,  scattered  o'er  the  plain." 
He  ceased  —  and  turned  toward  his  troops  again  ; 
There,  at  a  distance  from  the  hostile  power, 
He  brooding  waits  the  slaughter-breathing  hour. 

Meanwhile  the  sire  of  Gurd-afrid,  who  now 
Governed  the  fort,  and  feared  the  warrior's  vow ; 
Mournful  and  pale,  with  gathering  woes  opprest, 
His  distant  Monarch  trembling  thus  addrest. 
But  first  invoked  the  heavenly  power  to  shed 
Its  choicest  blessings  o'er  his  royal  head. 
"Against  our  realm  with  numerous  foot  and  horse, 
A  stripling  warrior  holds  his  ruthless  course. 
His  lion-breast  unequalled  strength  betrays, 
And  o'er  his  mien  the  sun's  effulgence  plays  : 
Sohrab  his  name  ;  like  Sam  Suwar  he  shows, 
Or  Rustem  terrible  amidst  his  foes. 
The  bold  Hujir  lies  vanquished  on  the  plain, 
And  drags  a  captive's  ignominious  chain ; 
Myriads  of  troops  besiege  our  tottering  wall, 


30  Firdausi. 

And  vain  the  effort  to  suspend  its  fall. 
Haste,  arm  for  fight,  this  Tartar-power  withstand, 
Let  sweeping  Vengeance  lift  her  flickering  brand  : 
Rustem  alone  may  stem  the  roaring  wave, 
And,  prompt  as  bold,  his  groaning  country  save. 
Meanwhile  in  flight  we  place  our  only  trust, 
Ere  the  proud  ramparts  crumble  in  the  dust." 

Swift  flies  the  messenger  through  secret  ways, 
And  to  the  King  the  dreadful  tale  conveys, 
Then  passed,  unseen,  in  night's  concealing  shade, 
The  mournful  heroes  and  the  warrior  maid. 

Sohrab  Loves. 

Soon  as  the  sun  with  vivifying  ray, 
Gleams  o'er  the  landscape,  and  renews  the  day; 
The  flaming  troops  the  lofty  walls  surround, 
With  thundering  crash  the  bursting  gates  resound. 
Already  are  the  captives  bound,  in  thought, 
And  like  a  herd  before  the  conqueror  brought ; 
Sohrab,  terrific  o'er  the  ruin,  views 
His  hopes  deceived,  but  restless  still  pursues. 
An  empty  fortress  mocks  his  searching  eye, 
No  steel-clad  chiefs  his  burning  wrath  defy ; 
No  warrior-maid  reviving  passions  warms, 
And  soothes  his  soul  with  fondly  valued  charms. 
Deep  in  his  breast  he  feels  the  amorous  smart, 
And  hugs  her  image  closer  to  his  heart. 
"  Alas  !  that  Fate  should  thus  invidious  shroud 
The  moon's  soft  radiance  in  a  gloomy  cloud ; 


Sohrab.  31 

Should  to  my  eyes  such  winning  grace  display, 
Then  snatch  the  enchanter  of  my  soul  away  ! 
A  beauteous  roe  my  toils  enclosed  in  vain, 
Now  I,  her  victim,  drag  the  captive's  chain ; 
Strange  the  effects  that  from  her  charms  proceed, 
I  gave  the  wound,  and  I  afflicted  bleed  ! 
Vanquished  by  her,  I  mourn  the  luckless  strife ; 
Dark,  dark,  and  bitter,  frowns  my  morn  of  life. 
A  fair  unknown  my  tortured  bosom  rends, 
Withers  each  joy,  and  every  hope  suspends." 
Impassioned  thus  Sohrab  in  secret  sighed, 
And  sought,  in  vain,  o'ermastering  grief  to  hide. 
Can  the  heart  bleed  and  throb  from  day  to  day, 
And  yet  no  trace  its  inmost  pangs  betray? 
Love  scorns  control,  and  prompts  the  laboring  sigh, 
Pales  the  red  lip,  and  dims  the  lucid  eye ; 
His  look  alarmed  the  stern  Turanian  Chief, 
Closely  he  mark'd  his  heart-corroding  grief;1 
And  though  he  knew  not  that  the  martial  dame, 
Had  in  his  bosom  lit  the  tender  flame ; 
Full  well  he  knew  such  deep  repinings  prove, 
The  hapless  thraldom  of  disastrous  love. 
Full  well  he  knew  some  idol's  musky  hair, 
Had  to  his  youthful  heart  become  a  snare, 
But  still  unnoted  was  the  gushing  tear, 
Till  haply  he  had  gained  his  private  ear :  — 
"  In  ancient  times,  no  hero  known  to  fame, 

1  Literally,  Human  was  not  at  first  aware  that  Sohrab  was 
wounded  in  the  liver.  In  this  organ  Oriental  as  well  as  the 
Greek  and  Roman  poets  place  the  residence  of  love. 


32  Firdausi. 

Not  dead  to  glory,  e'er  indulged  the  flame ; 
Though  beauty's  smiles  might  charm  a  fleeting  hour, 
The  heart,  unsway'd,  repelled  their  lasting  power. 
A  warrior  Chief  to  trembling  love  a  prey? 
What !  weep  for  woman  one  inglorious  day  ? 
Canst  thou  for  love's  effeminate  control, 
Barter  the  glory  of  a  warrior's  soul  ? 
Although  a  hundred  damsels  might  be  gained, 
The  hero's  heart  shall  still  be  free,  unchained. 
Thou  art  our  leader,  and  thy  place  the  field 
Where  soldiers  love  to  fight  with  spear  and  shield  ; 
And  what  hast  thou  to  do  with  tears  and  smiles, 
The  silly  victim  to  a  woman's  wiles? 
Our  progress,  mark  !  from  far  Turan  we  came, 
Through  seas  of  blood  to  gain  immortal  fame ; 
And  wilt  thou  now  the  tempting  conquest  shun, 
When  our  brave  arms  this  Barrier- fort  have  won  ? 
Why  linger  here,  and  trickling  sorrows  shed, 
Till  mighty  Kaus  thunders  o'er  thy  head  ! 
Till  Tus,  and  Giw,  and  Gudarz,  and  Bahram, 
And  Rustem  brave,  Feramurz,  and  Reham, 
Shall  aid  the  war  !     A  great  emprise  is  thine, 
At  once,  then,  every  other  thought  resign  ; 
For  know  the  task  which  first  inspired  thy  zeal, 
Transcends  in  glory  all  that  love  can  feel. 
Rise,  lead  the  war,  prodigious  toils  require 
Unyielding  strength,  and  unextinguished  fire ; 
Pursue  the  triumph  with  tempestuous  rage, 
Against  the  world  in  glorious  strife  engage, 
And  when  an  empire  sinks  beneath  thy  sway, 


Sohrab.  33 

(O  quickly  may  we  hail  the  prosperous  day,) 
The  fickle  sex  will  then  with  blooming  charms, 
Adoring  throng  to  bless  thy  circling  arms  ! " 

Sohrab's  Vow. 

Human's  warm  speech,  the  spirit-stirring  theme, 
Awoke  Sohrab  from  his  inglorious  dream. 
No  more  the  tear  his  faded  cheek  bedewed, 
Again  ambition  all  his  hopes  renewed  : 
SwelPd  his  bold  heart  with  unforgotten  zeal, 
The  noble  wrath  which  heroes  only  feel ; 
Fiercely  he  vowed  at  one  tremendous  stroke, 
To  bow  the  world  beneath  the  tyrant's  yoke  ! 
"Afrasiyab,"  he  cried,  "shall  reign  alone, 
The  mighty  lord  of  Persia's  gorgeous  throne  !  " 

Burning,  himself,  to  rule  this  nether  sphere, 
These  welcome  tidings  charmed  the  despot's  ear. 
Meantime  Kaus,  this  dire  invasion  known, 
Had  called  his  chiefs  around  his  ivory  throne : 
There  stood  Gurgin,  and  Bahram,  and  Gushwad, 
And  Tus,  and  Giw,  and  Gudarz,  and  Ferhad ; 
To  them  he  read  the  melancholy  tale, 
Gust'hem  had  written  of  the  rising  bale  ; 
Besought  their  aid  and  prudent  choice,  to  form 
Some  sure  defence  against  the  threatening  storm. 
With  one  consent  they  urge  the  strong  request, 
To  summon  Rustem  from  his  rural  rest. — 
Instant  a  warrior-delegate  they  send, 
And  thus  the  King  invites  his  patriot-friend, 


34  Firdausi. 

"  To  thee  all  praise,  whose  mighty  arm  alone, 
Preserves  the  glory  of  the  Persian  throne  ! 
Lo  !  Tartar  hordes  our  happy  realms  invade  ; 
The  tottering  state  requires  thy  powerful  aid ; 
A  youthful  Champion  leads  the  ruthless  host, 
His  savage  country's  widely  rumored  boast. 
The  Barrier-fortress  sinks  beneath  his  sway, 
Hujir  is  vanquished,  ruin  tracks  his  way ; 
Strong  as  a  raging  elephant  in  fight, 
No  arm  but  thine  can  match  his  furious  might. 
Mazinderan  thy  conquering  prowess  knew ; 
The  Demon-king  thy  trenchant  falchion  slew ; 
The  rolling  heavens,  abash'd  with  fear,  behold 
Thy  biting  sword,  thy  mace  adorned  with  gold  ! l 
Fly  to  the  succor  of  a  King  distrest, 
Proud  of  thy  love,  with  thy  protection  blest. 
When  o'er  the  nation  dread  misfortunes  lower, 
Thou  art  the  refuge,  thou  the  saving  power. 
The  chiefs  assembled  claim  thy  patriot  vows, 
Give  to  thy  glory  all  that  life  allows ; 
And  while  no  whisper  breathes  the  direful  tale, 
O,  let  thy  Monarch's  anxious  prayers  prevail." 

Closing  the  fragrant  page  2  o'ercome  with  dread, 

1  "  Thy  mace  makes  the  Sun  weep,  and  thy  sword  inflames  the 
Stars."  (Lit.  the  planet  Venus.)  Although  this  is  a  strong  hyper- 
bole, there  are  numberless  parallel  passages  containing  equally 
extravagant  personification  in  our  own  poets. 

2  The  paper  upon  which  the  letters  of  royal  and  distinguished 
personages  in  the  East  are  written  is  usually  perfumed,  and  covered 
with  curious  devices  in  gold.  This  was  scented  with  amber.  The 
degree  of  embellishment  is  generally  regulated  according  to  the 
rank  of  the  party. 


Sohrab.  35 

The  afflicted  King  to  Giw,  the  warrior,  said  :  — 
"  Go,  bind  the  saddle  on  thy  fleetest  horse, 
Outstrip  the  tempest  in  thy  rapid  course, 
To  Rustem  swift  his  country's  woes  convey, 
Too  true  art  thou  to  linger  on  the  way ; 
Speed,  day  and  night  —  and  not  one  instant  wait, 
Whatever  hour  may  bring  thee  to  his  gate." 

Rustem  Warned. 

Followed  no  pause  —  to  Giw  enough  was  said, 
Nor  rest,  nor  taste  of  food,  his  speed  delayed. 
And  when  arrived  where  Zabul  bowers  exhale 
Ambrosial  sweets  and  scent  the  balmy  gale, 
The  sentinel's  loud  voice  in  Rustem's  ear, 
Announced  a  messenger  from  Persia,  near ; 
The  Chief  himself  amidst  his  warriors  stood, 
Dispensing  honors  to  the  brave  and  good, 
And  soon  as  Giw  had  joined  the  martial  ring, 
(The  sacred  envoy  of  the  Persian  King,) 
He,  with  becoming  loyalty  inspired, 
Asked  what  the  monarch,  what  the  state,  required ; 
But  Giw,  apart,  his  secret  mission  told,  — 
The  written  page  was  speedily  unrolled. 

Struck  with  amazement,  Rustem  —  "  Now  on  earth 
A  warrior-knight  of  Sam's  excelling  worth  ? 
Whence  comes  this  hero  of  the  prosperous  star? 
I  know  no  Turk  renowned,  like  him,  in  war ; 
He  bears  the  port  of  Rustem  too,  'tis  said, 
Like  Sam,  like  Nariman,  a  warrior  bred  ! 
He  cannot  be  my  son,  unknown  to  me ; 


36  Firdausi, 

Reason  forbids  the  thought  —  it  cannot  be  ! 

At  Samengan,  where  once  affection  smiled, 

To  me  Tahmineh  bore  her  only  child, 

That  was  a  daughter  ?  "     Pondering  thus  he  spoke, 

And  then  aloud  —  "  Why  fear  the  invader's  yoke  ? 

Why  trembling  shrink,  by  coward  thoughts  dismayed, 

Must  we  not  all  in  dust,  at  length,  be  laid  ? 

But  come,  to  Nirum's  palace,  haste  with  me, 

And  there  partake  the  feast  —  from  sorrow  free  ; 

Breathe,  but  awhile  —  ere  we  our  toils  renew, 

And  moisten  the  parched  lip  with  needful  dew. 

Let  plans  of  war  another  day  decide, 

We  soon  shall  quell  this  youthful  hero's  pride. 

The  force  of  fire  soon  flutters  and  decays 

When  ocean,  swelled  by  storms,  its  wrath  displays. 

What  danger  threatens  !  whence  the  dastard  fear  ! 

Rest,  and  at  leisure  share  a  warrior's  cheer." 

In  vain  the  Envoy  prest  the  Monarch's  grief; 
The  matchless  prowess  of  the  stripling  chief; 
How  brave  Hujir  had  felt  his  furious  hand ; 
What  thickening  woes  beset  the  shuddering  land. 
But  Rustem,  still,  delayed  the  parting  day, 
And  mirth  and  feasting  rolled  the  hours  away ; 
Morn  following  morn  beheld  the  banquet  bright, 
Music  and  wine  prolonged  the  genial  rite ; 
Rapt  by  the  witchery  of  the  melting  strain, 
No  thought  of  Kaus  touch 'd  his  swimming  brain.1 

1  Four  days  were  consumed  in  uninterrupted  feasting.  This 
seems  to  have  been  an  ancient  practice  previous  to  the  commence- 
ment of  any  important  undertaking,  or  at  setting  out  on  a  journey. 


Sobrab.  37 

The  trumpet's  clang,  on  fragrant  breezes  borne, 
Now  loud  salutes  the  fifth  revolving  morn ; 
The  softer  tones  which  charmed  the  jocund  feast, 
And  all  the  noise  of  revelry,  had  ceased, 
The  generous  horse,  with  rich  embroidery  deckt, 
Whose  gilded  trappings  sparkling  light  reflect, 
Bears  with  majestic  port  the  Champion  brave, 
And  high  in  air  the  victor-banners  wave. 
Prompt  at  the  martial  call,  Zuara  leads 
His  veteran  troops  from  Zabul's  verdant  meads.1 


Kaus  Enraged. 

Ere  Rustem  had  approached  his  journey's  end, 
Tus,  Gudarz,  Gushwad,  met  their  champion-friend, 
With  customary  honors ;  pleased  to  bring 
The  shield  of  Persia  to  the  anxious  King. 
But  foaming  wrath  the  senseless  monarch  swayed  ; 
His  friendship  scorned,  his  mandate  disobeyed, 
Beneath  dark  brows  o'ershadowing  deep,  his  eye 
Red  gleaming  shone,  like  lightning  through  the  sky  ; 
And  when  the  warriors  met  his  sullen  view, 
Frowning  revenge,  still  more  enraged  he  grew :  — 
Loud  to  the  Envoy  thus  he  fiercely  cried  :  — 
"  Since  Rustem  has  my  royal  power  defied, 
Had  I  a  sword,  this  instant  should  his  head 
Roll  on  the  ground  ;  but  let  him  now  be  led 

1  Zuara,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  the  brother  of  Rustem,  and 
had  the  immediate  superintendence  of  the  Zabul  troops. 


38  FirdausL 

Hence,  and  impaled  alive."  l     Astounded  Giw 
Shrunk  from  such  treatment  of  a  knight  so  true  ; 
But  this  resistance  added  to  the  flame, 
And  both  were  branded  with  revolt  and  shame ; 
Both  were  condemned,  and  Tus,  the  stern  decree 
Received,  to  break  them  on  the  felon  tree. 
Could  daring  insult,  thus  deliberate  given, 
Escape  the  rage  of  one  to  frenzy  driven  ? 
No,  from  his  side  the  nerveless  Chief  was  flung, 
Bent  to  the  ground.     Away  the  Champion  sprung; 
Mounted  his  foaming  horse,  and  looking  round  — 
His  boiling  wrath  thus  rapid  utterance  found  :  — 
"  Ungrateful  King,  thy  tyrant  acts  disgrace 
The  sacred  throne,  and  more,  the  human  race  ; 
Midst  clashing  swords  thy  recreant  life  I  saved, 
And  am  I  now  by  Tus  contemptuous  braved  ? 2 
On  me  shall  Tus,  shall  Kaus  dare  to  frown  ? 
On  me,  the  bulwark  of  the  regal  crown  ? 
Wherefore  should  fear  in  Rustem's  breast  have  birth, 
Kaus,  to  me,  a  worthless  clod  of  earth  ! 
Go,  and  thyself  Sohrab's  invasion  stay, 

1  The  original  is,  "  Seize  and  inflict  upon  him  the  punishment 
of  the  dar."  According  to  Burhani-katia,  dar  is  a  tree  upon  which 
felons  are  hanged.  But  the  general  acceptation  of  the  term  is 
breaking  or  tearing  the  body  upon  a  stake. 

2  In  this  speech  Rustem  recounts  the  services  which  he  had  per- 
formed for  Kaus.  He  speaks  of  his  conquests  in  Egypt,  China, 
Hamaveran,  Rum,  Suksar,  and  Mazinderan.  Thus  Achilles  boasts 
of  his  unrequited  achievements  in  the  cause  of  Greece. 

"  I  sacked  twelve  ample  cities  on  the  main, 
And  twelve  lay  smoking  on  the  Trojan  plain. " 

Pope,  Iliad  ix.,  328. 


Sohrab.  39 

Go,  seize  the  plunderers  growling  o'er  their  prey  ! 

Wherefore  to  others  give  the  base  command  ? 

Go,  break  him  on  the  tree  with  thine  own  hand. 

Know,  thou  hast  roused  a  warrior,  great  and  free, 

Who  never  bends  to  tyrant  Kings  like  thee  ! 

Was  not  this  untired  arm  triumphant  seen, 

In  Misser,  Rum,  Mazinderan,  and  Chin  ! 

And  must  I  shrink  at  thy  imperious  nod  ! 

Slave  to  no  Prince,  I  only  bow  to  God. 

Whatever  wrath  from  thee,  proud  King  !  may  fall, 

For  thee  I  fought,  and  I  deserve  it  all. 

The  regal  sceptre  might  have  graced  my  hand, 

I  kept  the  laws,  and  scorned  supreme  command. 

When  Kai-kobad  on  Alberz  mountain  strayed, 

I  drew  him  thence,  and  gave  a  warrior's  aid ; 

Placed  on  his  brows  the  long-contested  crown, 

Worn  by  his  sires,  by  sacred  right  his  own  ; 

Strong  in  the  cause,  my  conquering  arms  prevailed. 

Wouldst  thou  have  reign'd  had  Rustem's  valor  failed  ? 

When  the  White  demon  raged  in  battle-fray, 

Wouldst  thou  have  lived  had  Rustem  lost  the  day?  " 

Then  to  his  friends  :  "  Be  wise,  and  shun  your  fate, 

Fly  the  wide  ruin  which  o'erwhelms  the  state ; 

The  conqueror  comes  —  the  scourge  of  great  and  small, 

And  vultures,  following  fast,  will  gorge  on  all. 

Persia  no  more  its  injured  Chief  shall  view  "  — 

He  said,  and  sternly  from  the  court  withdrew. 

The  warriors  now,  with  sad  forebodings  wrung, 
Torn  from  that  hope  to  which  they  proudly  clung, 
On  Gudarz  rest,  to  soothe  with  gentle  sway, 


40  Firdausi. 

The  frantic  King,  and  Rustem's  wrath  allay. 
With  bitter  grief  they  wail  misfortune's  shock, 
No  shepherd  now  to  guard  the  timorous  flock. 
Gudarz  at  length,  with  boding  cares  imprest, 
Thus  soothed  the  anger  in  the  royal  breast. 
"  Say,  what  has  Rustem  done,  that  he  should  be 
Impaled  upon  the  ignominious  tree  ? 
Degrading  thought,  unworthy  to  be  bred 
Within  a  royal  heart,  a  royal  head. 
Hast  thou  forgot  when  near  the  Caspian-wave, 
Defeat  and  ruin  had  appalled  the  brave, 
When  mighty  Rustem  struck  the  dreadful  blow, 
And  nobly  freed  thee  from  the  savage  foe  ? 
Did  Demons  huge  escape  his  flaming  brand  ? 
Their  reeking  limbs  bestrewed  the  slippery  strand. 
Shall  he  for  this  resign  his  vital  breath  ? 
What !  shall  the  hero's  recompense  be  death? 
But  who  will  dare  a  threatening  step  advance, 
What  earthly  power  can  bear  his  withering  glance? 
Should  he  to  Zabul  fired  with  wrongs  return, 
The  plundered  land  will  long  in  sorrow  mourn  ! 
This  direful  presage  all  our  warriors  feel, 
For  who  can  now  oppose  the  invader's  steel ; 
Thus  is  it  wise  thy  champion  to  offend, 
To  urge  to  this  extreme  thy  warrior-friend  ? 
Remember,  passion  ever  scorns  control, 
And  wisdom's  mild  decrees  should  rule  a  Monarch's 
soul."  l 

1  Literally,   "  Kings   ought   to  be   endowed  with  judgment  and 
discretion;    no  advantage  can  arise  from   impetuosity  and  rage." 


Sobrab.  41 

Kaus  Relents. 

Kaus,  relenting,  heard  with  anxious  ear, 
And  groundless  wrath  gave  place  to  shame  and  fear ; 
"  Go  then,"  he  cried,  "his  generous  aid  implore, 
And  to  your  King  the  mighty  Chief  restore  !  " 

When  Gudarz  rose,  and  seized  his  courser's  rein, 
A  crowd  of  heroes  followed  in  his  train. 
To  Rustem,  now  (respectful  homage  paid), 
The  royal  prayer  he  anxious  thus  conveyed. 
"  The  King,  repentant,  seeks  thy  aid  again, 
Grieved  to  the  heart  that  he  has  given  thee  pain  ; 
But  though  his  anger  was  unjust  and  strong, 
Thy  country  still  is  guiltless  of  the  wrong, 
And,  therefore,  why  abandoned  thus  by  thee? 
Thy  help  the  King  himself  implores  through  me." 
Rustem  rejoined  :  "  Unworthy  the  pretence, 
And  scorn  and  insult  all  my  recompense? 
Must  I  be  galled  by  his  capricious  mood? 
I,  who  have  still  his  firmest  champion  stood? 
But  all  is  past,  to  heaven  alone  resigned, 
No  human  cares  shall  more  disturb  my  mind  ! " 
Then  Gudarz  thus  (consummate  art  inspired 
His  prudent  tongue,  with  all  that  zeal  required)  ; 
"  When  Rustem  dreads  Sohrab's  resistless  power, 
Well  may  inferiors  fly  the  trying  hour  ! 

Gudarz  was  one  of  the  greatest  generals  of  Persia ;  he  conquered 
Judea,  and  took  Jerusalem  under  the  reign  of  Lohurasp,  of  the  first 
dynasty  of  Persia,  and  sustained  many  wars  against  Afrasiyab  under 
the  Kings  of  the  second  dynasty.  He  was  the  father  of  Giw,  who  is 
also  celebrated  for  his  valor  in  the  following  reigns. 


42  Fir  da  it  si. 

The  dire  suspicion  now  pervades  us  all, 
Thus,  unavenged,  shall  beauteous  Persia  fall ! 
Yet,  generous  still,  avert  the  lasting  shame, 
O,  still  preserve  thy  country's  glorious  fame  ! 
Or  wilt  thou,  deaf  to  all  our  fears  excite, 
Forsake  thy  friends,  and  shun  the  pending  fight? 
And  worse,  O  grief !  in  thy  declining  days, 
Forfeit  the  honors  of  thy  country's  praise?" 
This  artful  censure  set  his  soul  on  fire, 
But  patriot  firmness  calm'd  his  burning  ire ; 
And  thus  he  said  :  "  Inured  to  war's  alarms, 
Did  ever  Rustem  shun  the  din  of  arms  ? 
Though  frowns  from  Kaus  I  disdain  to  bear, 
My  threaten'd  country  claims  a  warrior's  care." 
He  ceased,  and  prudent  joined  the  circling  throng, 
And  in  the  public  good  forgot  the  private  wrong. 

From  far  the  King  the  generous  Champion  viewed, 
And  rising  mildly  thus  his  speech  pursued  :  — 
"  Since  various  tempers  govern  all  mankind, 
Me,  nature  fashioned  of  a  froward  mind  ; 1 
And  what  the  heavens  spontaneously  bestow, 
Sown  by  their  bounty  must  forever  grow. 
The  fit  of  wrath  which  burst  within  me,  soon 
Shrunk  up  my  heart  as  thin  as  the  new  moon ; 2 

!Kaus,  in  acknowledging  the  violence  of  his  disposition,  uses  a 
singular  phrase :  "  When  you  departed  in  anger,  O  Champion !  I 
repented;  ashes  fell  into  my  mouth."  A  similar  metaphor  is  used  in 
Hindustani:  If  a  person  falls  under  the  displeasure  of  his  friend,  he 
says,  "Ashes  have  fallen  into  my  meat;  "  meaning  that  his  happi- 
ness is  gone. 

2  This  is  one  of  Firdausi's  favorite  similes. 

"  My  heart  became  as  slender  as  the  new  moon." 


Sobrab.  43 

Else  had  I  deemed  thee  still  my  army's  boast, 
Source  of  my  regal  power,  beloved  the  most, 
Unequalled.     Every  day,  remembering  thee, 
I  drain  the  wine  cup,  thou  art  all  to  me ; 
I  wished  thee  to  perform  that  lofty  part, 
Claimed  by  thy  valor,  sanctioned  by  my  heart ; 
Hence  thy  delay  my  better  thoughts  supprest, 
And  boisterous  passions  revelled  in  my  breast ; 
But  when  I  saw  thee  from  my  Court  retire 
In  wrath,  repentance  quenched  my  burning  ire. 
O,  let  me  now  my  keen  contrition  prove, 
Again  enjoy  thy  fellowship  and  love  : 
And  while  to  thee  my  gratitude  is  known, 
Still  be  the  pride  and  glory  of  my  throne." 

Rustem,  thus  answering,  said  :  "Thou  art  the  King, 
Source  of  command,  pure  honor's  sacred  spring ; 
And  here  I  stand  to  follow  thy  behest, 
Obedient  ever  —  be  thy  will  expressed, 
And  services  required  —  Old  age  shall  see 
My  loins  still  bound  in  fealty  to  thee." 

To  this  the  King  :  "  Rejoice  we  then  to-day, 
And  on  the  morrow  marshal  our  array." 
The  monarch  quick  commands  the  feast  of  joy, 
And  social  cares  his  buoyant  mind  employ, 
Within  a  bower,  beside  a  crystal  spring,1 


1  The  beautiful  arbors  referred  to  in  the  text  are  often  included 
within  the  walls  of  Eastern  palaces.  They  are  fancifully  fitted  up, 
and  supplied  with  reservoirs,  fountains,  and  flower  trees.  These 
romantic  garden  pavilions  are  called  "  kiosks  "  in  Turkey,  and  are 
generally  situated  upon  an  eminence  near  a  running  stream. 


44  Firdausi. 

Where  opening  flowers,  refreshing  odors  fling, 
Cheerful  he  sits,  and  forms  the  banquet  scene, 
In  regal  splendor  on  the  crowded  green  ; 
And  as  around  he  greets  his  valiant  bands, 
Showers  golden  presents  from  his  bounteous  hands ; l 
Voluptuous  damsels  trill  the  sportive  lay, 
Whose  sparkling  glances  beam  celestial  day ; 
Filled  with  delight  the  heroes  closer  join, 
And  quaff  till  midnight  cups  of  generous  wine. 

Soon  as  the  Sun  had  pierced  the  veil  of  night, 
And  o'er  the  prospect  shed  his  earliest  light, 
Kaus,  impatient,  bids  the  clarions  sound, 
The  sprightly  notes  from  hills  and  rocks  rebound ; 
His  treasure  gates  are  opened  :   and  to  all 
A  largess  given  ;  obedient  to  the  call, 
His  subjects  gathering  crowd  the  mountain's  brow, 
And  following  thousands  shade  the  vales  below ; 
With  shields,  in  armor,  numerous  legends  bend ; 
And  troops  of  horse  the  threatening  lines  extend. 
Beneath  the  tread  of  heroes  fierce  and  strong, 
By  war's  tumultuous  fury  borne  along, 
The  firm  earth  shook :  the  dust,  in  eddies  driven, 
Whirled  high  in  air,  obscured  the  face  of  heaven ; 

1  Milton  alludes  to  the  custom  in  Paradise  Lost :  — 

"  Where  the  gorgeous  East  with  richest  hand 
Showers  on  her  kings  barbaric  pearl  and  gold." 

In  the  note  on  this  passage  by  Warburton,  it  is  said  to  have  been  an 
Eastern  ceremony,  at  the  coronation  of  their  kings,  to  powder  them 
with  gold-dust  and  seed-pearl.  The  expression  in  Firdausi  is,  "  he 
showered  or  scattered  gems."  It  was  usual  at  festivals,  and  the 
custom  still  exists,  to  throw  money  amongst  the  people. 


Sohrab.  45 

Nor  earth,  nor  sky  appeared  —  all,  seeming  lost, 
And  swallowed  up  by  that  wide-spreading  host. 
The  steely  armor  glittered  o'er  the  fields, 
And  lightnings  flashed  from  gold  emblazoned  shields ; 
Thou  wouldst  have  said  the  clouds  had  burst  in  showers 
Of  sparkling  amber  o'er  the  martial  powers. 
Thus,  close  embodied,  they  pursued  their  way, 
And  reached  the  Barrier-fort  in  terrible  array. 

The  Spy. 

The  legions  of  Turan,  with  dread  surprise, 
Saw  o'er  the  plain  successive  myriads  rise  ; 
And  showed  them  to  Sohrab ;  he,  mounting  high 
The  fort,  surveyed  them  with  a  fearless  eye ; 
To  Human,  who,  with  withering  terror  pale, 
Had  marked  their  progress  through  the  distant  vale, 
He  pointed  out  the  sight,  and  ardent  said  :  — 
"  Dispel  these  woe-fraught  broodings  from  thy  head. 
I  wage  the  war,  Afrasiyab  !  for  thee, 
And  make  this  desert  seem  a  rolling  sea." 
Thus,  while  amazement  every  bosom  quelled, 
Sohrab,  unmoved,  the  coming  storm  beheld, 
And  boldly  gazing  on  the  camp  around, 
Raised  high  the  cup  with  wine  nectareous  crowned  : 
O'er  him  no  dreams  of  woe  insidious  stole, 
No  thought  but  joy  engaged  his  ardent  soul. 

The  Persian  legions  had  restrained  their  course, 
Tents  and  pavilions,  countless  foot  and  horse, 
Clothed  all  the  spacious  plain,  and  gleaming  threw 


46  Firdausi. 

Terrific  splendors  on  the  gazer's  view. 
But  when  the  Sun  had  faded  in  the  west, 
And  night  assumed  her  ebon-colored  vest, 
The  mighty  Chief  approached  the  sacred  throne, 
And  generous  thus  made  danger  all  his  own  : 
"  The  rules  of  war  demand  a  previous  task, 
To  watch  this  dreadful  foe  I  boldly  ask ; 
With  wary  step  the  wondrous  youth  to  view, 
And  mark  the  heroes  who  his  path  pursue." 
The  King  assents  :  "  The  task  is  justly  thine, 
Favorite  of  heaven,  inspired  by  power  divine." 
In  Turkish  habit   secretly  arrayed 
The  lurking  Champion  wandered  through  the  shade, 
And,  cautious,  standing  near  the  palace  gate, 
Saw  how  the  chiefs  were  ranged  in  princely  state. 
What  time  Sohrab  his  thoughts  to  battle  turned, 
And  for  the  first  proud  fruits  of  conquest  burned, 
His  mother  called  a  warrior  to  his  aid, 
And  Zinda-ruzm  his  sister's  call  obeyed. 
To  him  Tahmineh  gave  her  only  joy, 
And  bade  him  shield  the  bold  adventurous  boy : 
"  But,  in  the  dreadful  strife,  should  danger  rise, 
Present  my  child  before  his  father's  eyes  ! 
By  him  protected,  war  may  rage  in  vain, 
Though  he  may  never  bless  these  arms  again  !  " 
This  guardian  prince  sat  on  the  stripling's  right, 
Viewing  the  imperial  banquet  with  delight ; 
Human  and  Barman,  near  the  hero  placed, 
In  joyous  pomp  the  full  assembly  graced ; 
A  hundred  valiant  Chiefs  begirt  the  throne? 


Sobrab.  47 

And,  all  elate,  were  chanting  his  renown. 
Closely  concealed,  the  gay  and  splendid  scene, 
Rustem  contemplates  with  astonished  mien ; 
When  Zind,  retiring,  marks  the  listener  nigh, 
Watching  the  festal  train  with  curious  eye ; 
And  well  he  knew,  amongst  his  Tartar  host, 
Such  towering  stature  not  a  Chief  could  boast  — 
"What  spy  is  here,  close  shrouded  by  the  night? 
Art  thou  afraid  to  face  the  beams  of  light?" 
But  scarcely  from  his  lips  these  words  had  past, 
Ere,  felled  to  earth,  he  groaning  breathed  his  last ; 
Unseen  he  perished,  fate  decreed  the  blow, 
To  add  fresh  keenness  to  a  parent's  woe. 

Meantime  Sohrab,  perceiving  the  delay 
In  Zind's  return,  looked  round  him  with  dismay ; 
The  seat  still  vacant  —  but  the  bitter  truth, 
Full  soon  was  known  to  the  distracted  youth ; 
Full  soon  he  found  that  Zinda-ruzm  was  gone, 
His  day  of  feasting  and  of  glory  done ; 
Speedful  toward  the  fatal  spot  he  ran, 
Where  slept  in  bloody  vest  the  slaughtered  man. 

The  lighted  torches  now  displayed  the  dead, 
Stiff  on  the  ground  his  graceful  limbs  were  spread ; 
Sad  sight  to  him  who  knew  his  guardian  care, 
Now  doomed  a  kinsman's  early  loss  to  bear; 
Anguish  and  rage  devour  his  breast  by  turns, 
He  vows  revenge,  then  o'er  the  warrior  mourns  : 
And  thus  exclaims  to  each  afflicted  Chief:  — 
"  No  time,  to-night,  my  friends,  for  useless  grief; 
The  ravenous  wolf  has  watched  his  helpless  prey, 


48  Firdaitsi. 

Sprung  o'er  the  fold,  and  borne  its  flower  away ; 
But  if  the  heavens  my  lifted  arm  befriend, 
Upon  the  guilty  shall  my  wrath  descend  — 
Unsheathed,  this  sword  shall  dire  revenge  pursue, 
And  Persian  blood  the  thirsty  land  bedew." 
Frowning  he  paused,  and  checked  the  spreading  woe, 
Resumed  the  feast,  and  bid  the  wine-cup  flow  ! 

The  valiant  Giw  was  sentinel  that  night, 
And  marking  dimly  by  the  dubious  light, 
A  warrior  form  approach,  he  claps  his  hands, 
With  naked  sword  and  lifted  shield  he  stands, 
To  front  the  foe  ;  but  Rustem  now  appears, 
And  Giw  the  secret  tale  astonished  hears ; 
From  thence  the  Champion  on  the  Monarch  waits, 
The  power  and  splendor  of  Sohrab  relates  : 
"  Circled  by  Chiefs  this  glorious  youth  was  seen, 
Of  lofty  stature  and  majestic  mien  ; 
No  Tartar  region  gave  the  hero  birth  : 
Some  happier  portion  of  the  spacious  earth  ; 
Tall,  as  the  graceful  cypress  he  appears ; 
Like  Sam  the  brave,  his  warrior- front  he  rears  !  " 
Then  having  told  how,  while  the  banquet  shone, 
Unhappy  Zind  had  sunk,  without  a  groan ; 
He  forms  his  conquering  bands  in  close  array, 
And,  cheered  by  wine,  awaits  the  coming  day. 

Sohrab  questions  Hujir. 

When  now  the  Sun  his  golden  buckler  raised, 
And  genial  light  through  heaven  diffusive  blazed, 


Sobrab.  49 

Sohrab  in  mail  his  nervous  limbs  attired, 
For  dreadful  wrath  his  soul  to  vengeance  fired; 
With  anxious  haste  he  bent  the  yielding  cord, 
Ring  within  ring,  more  fatal  than  the  sword ; 
Around  his  brow  a  regal  helm  he  bound ; 
His  dappled  steed  impatient  stampt  the  ground. 
Thus  armed,  ascending  where  the  eye  could  trace 
The  hostile  force,  and  mark  each  leader's  place, 
He  called  Hujir,  the  captive  Chief  addressed, 
And  anxious  thus,  his  soul's  desire  expressed  : 
"  A  prisoner  thou,  if  freedom's  voice  can  charm, 
And  dungeon  darkness  fill  thee  with  alarm, 
That  freedom  merit,  shun  severest  woe, 
And  truly  answer  what  I  ask  to  know  ! 
If  rigid  truth  thy  ready  speech  attend, 
Honors  and  wealth  shall  dignify  my  friend." 

"  Obedient  to  thy  wish,"  Hujir  replied : 
"Truth  thou  shalt  hear,  whatever  chance  betide; 
For  what  on  earth  to  praise  has  better  claim? 
Falsehood  but  leads  to  sorrow  and  to  shame  ! " 

"  Then  say,  what  heroes  lead  the  adverse  host, 
Where  they  command,  what  dignities  they  boast ; 
Say,  where  does  Kaus  hold  his  kingly  state,1 
Where  Tus,  and  Gudarz,  on  his  bidding  wait ; 
Giw,  Gust'hem,  and  Bahram  —  all  known  to  thee, 
And  where  is  mighty  Rustem,  where  is  he? 
Look  round  with  care,  their  names  and  power  display, 
Or  instant  death  shall  end  thy  vital  day." 

1  Similar  descriptions  of  chiefs  and  encampments  are  common 
amongst  the  epic  poets  of  the  West. 


50  Fir  dan  si. 

"  Where  yonder  splendid  tapestries  extend,1 
And  o'er  pavilions  bright  infolding  bend, 
A  throne  triumphal  shines  with  sapphire  rays, 
And  golden  suns  upon  the  banners  blaze ; 
Full  in  the  centre  of  the  hosts  —  and  round 
The  tent  a  hundred  elephants  are  bound, 
As  if,  in  pomp,  he  mocked  the  power  of  fate ; 
There  royal  Kaus  holds  his  kingly  state. 

"  In  yonder  tent  which  numerous  guards  protect, 
Where  front  and  rear  illustrious  Chiefs  collect; 
Where  horsemen  wheeling  seem  prepared  for  fight, 
Their  golden  armor  glittering  in  the  light ; 
Tus  lifts  his  banners,  decked  with  royal  pride, 
Feared  by  the  brave,  the  soldier's  friend  and  guide.2 

"  That  crimson  tent  where  spearmen  frowning  stand, 
And  steel-clad  veterans  form  a  threatening  band, 
Holds  mighty  Gudarz,  famed  for  martial  fire, 
Of  eighty  valiant  sons  the  valiant  sire  ; 
Yet  strong  in  arms,  he  shuns  inglorious  ease, 
His  lion-banners  floating  in  the  breeze." 

"  But  mark,  that  green  pavilion  ;  girt  around 
By  Persian  nobles,  speaks  the  Chief  renowned ; 
Fierce  on  the  standard,  worked  with  curious  art, 
A  hideous  dragon  writhing  seems  to  start ; 


1  The  tents  and  pavilions  of  Eastern  princes  were  exceedingly 
magnificent ;  they  were  often  made  of  silks  and  velvets,  and  orna- 
mented with  pearls  and  gold.  The  tent  of  Nadir  Shah  was  made 
of  scarlet  and  broadcloth,  and  lined  with  satin,  richly  figured  over 
with  precious  stones. 

2  The  banners  were  adorned  with  the  figure  of  an  elephant,  to 
denote  his  royal  descent. 


Sohrab.  51 

Throned  in  his  tent  the  warrior's  form  is  seen, 
Towering  above  the  assembled  host  between  ! x 
A  generous  horse  before  him  snorts  and  neighs, 
The  trembling  earth  the  echoing  sound  conveys. 
Like  him  no  Champion  ever  met  my  eyes, 
No  horse  like  that  for  majesty  and  size ; 
What  Chief  illustrious  bears  a  port  so  high  ? 
Mark,  how  his  standard  flickers  through  the  sky  ! " 

Thus  ardent  spoke  Sohrab.     Hujir  dismayed, 
Paused  ere  reply  the  dangerous  truth  betrayed. 
Trembling  for  Rustem's  life  the  captive  groaned ; 
Basely  his  country's  glorious  boast  disowned, 
And  said  the  Chief  from  distant  China  came  — 
Sohrab  abrupt  demands  the  hero's  name ; 
The  name  unknown,  grief  wrings  his  aching  heart, 
And  yearning  anguish  speeds  her  venomed  dart; 
To  him  his  mother  gave  the  tokens  true, 
He  sees  them  all,  and  all  but  mock  his  view. 
When  gloomy  fate  descends  in  evil  hour, 
Can  human  wisdom  bribe  her  favoring  power? 
Yet,  gathering  hope,  again  with  restless  mien 
He  marks  the  Chiefs  who  crowd  the  warlike  scene. 

"  Where  numerous  heroes,  horse  and  foot,  appear, 
And  brazen  trumpets  thrill  the  listening  ear, 
Behold  the  proud  pavilion  of  the  brave  ! 
With  wolves  embossed  the  silken  banners  wave. 

1  Thus  in  Homer :  — 

"The  king  of  kings  majestically  tall, 
Towers  o'er  his  armies  and  outshines  them  all." 

Pope,  Iliad,  ii.,  483. 


52  Firdausi. 

The  throne's  bright  gems  with  radiant  lustre  glow, 
Slaves  ranked  around  with  duteous  homage  bow. 
What  mighty  Chieftain  rules  his  cohorts  there? 
His  name  and  lineage,  free  from  guile,  declare  ! " 

"  Giw,  son  of  Gudarz,  long  a  glorious  name, 
Whose  prowess  even  transcends  his  father's  fame."  l 

"  Mark  yonder  tent  of  pure  and  dazzling  white, 
Whose  rich  brocade  reflects  a  quivering  light ; 
An  ebon  seat  surmounts  the  ivory  throne ; 
There  frowns  in  state  a  warrior  of  renown. 
The  crowding  slaves  his  awful  nod  obey, 
And  silver  moons  around  his  banners  play ; 
What  Chief,  or  Prince,  has  grasped  the  hostile  sword?  " 
"  Fraburz,  the  son  of  Persia's  mighty  lord." 

Again  :  "These  standards  shew  one  champion  more, 
Upon  their  centre  flames  the  savage  boar ; 2 
The  saffron-hued  pavilion  bright  ascends, 
Whence  many  a  fold  of  tasselled  fringe  depends  ; 
Who  there  presides?" 

"  Guraz,  from  heroes  sprung, 
Whose  praise  exceeds  the  power  of  mortal  tongue." 

Thus,  anxious,  he  explored  the  crowded  field, 
Nor  once  the  secret  of  his  birth  revealed  ; 3 

1  The  text  says  that  he  was  also  the  son-in-law  of  Rustem. 

2  The  word  Guraz  signifies  a  wild  boar,  but  this  acceptation  is  not 
very  accordant  to  Mussulman  notions,  and  consequently  it  is  not 
supposed,  by  the  orthodox,  to  have  that  meaning  in  the  text.  It  is 
curious  that  the  name  of  the  warrior,  Guraz,  should  correspond 
with  the  bearings  on  the  standard.  This  frequently  obtains  in  the 
heraldry  of  Europe. 

3  Firdausi  considers  this  to  be  destiny !  It  would  have  been 
natural  in  Sohrab  to  have  gloried  in  the  fame  of  his  father,  but  from 


Sohrab.  53 

Heaven  willed  it  so.     Pressed  down  by  silent  grief, 
Surrounding  objects  promised  no  relief. 
This  world  to  mortals  still  denies  repose, 
And  life  is  still  the  scene  of  many  woes. 
Again  his  eye,  instinctive  turned,  descried 
The  green  pavilion,  and  the  warrior's  pride. 
Again  he  cries  :  "  O  tell  his  glorious  name  ; 
Yon  gallant  horse  declares  the  hero's  fame  ! " 
But  false  Hujir  the  aspiring  hope  repelled, 
Crushed  the  fond  wish,  the  soothing  balm  withheld, 
"And  why  should  I  conceal  his  name  from  thee? 
His  name  and  title  are  unknown  to  me." 

Then  thus  Sohrab  —  "  In  all  that  thou  hast  said, 
No  sign  of  Rustem  have  thy  words  conveyed  ; 
Thou  sayest  he  leads  the  Persian  host  to  arms, 
With  him  has  battle  lost  its  boisterous  charms? 
Of  him  no  trace  thy  guiding  hand  has  shewn  ; 
Can  power  supreme  remain  unmarked,  unknown?  " 

"  Perhaps  returned  to  Zabul's  verdant  bowers, 
He  undisturbed  enjoys  his  peaceful  hours, 
The  vernal  banquets  may  constrain  his  stay, 
And  rural  sports  invite  prolonged  delay." 

"  Ah  !  say  not  thus  ;  the  Champion  of  the  world, 
Shrink  from  the  kindling  war  with  banners  furled  ! l 

an  inevitable  dispensation,  his  lips  are  here  sealed  on  that  subject ; 
and  he  inquires  of  Rustem  as  if  he  only  wanted  to  sipgle  him  out 
for  the  purpose  of  destroying  him.  The  people  of  Persia  are  all 
fatalists. 

1  The  continued  anxiety  and  persevering  filial  duty  of  Sohrab  are 
described  with  great  success.  The  case  is  unparalleled.  Sohrab  is 
dark  and  mysterious,  and,  as  Firdausi  says  in  another  place,  the 
unconscious  promoter  of  his  own  destruction. 


54  Firdausi. 

It  cannot  be  !     Say  where  his  lightnings  dart, 

Shew  me  the  warrior,  all  thou  know'st  impart ; 

Treasures  uncounted  shall  be  thy  reward, 

Death  changed  to  life,  my  friendship  more  than  shared. 

Dost  thou  not  know  what,  in  the  royal  ear, 

The  Mubid  said  —  befitting  Kings  to  hear? 

'  Untold,  a  secret  is  a  jewel  bright, 

Yet  profitless  whilst  hidden  from  the  light ; 

But  when  revealed,  in  words  distinctly  given, 

It  shines  refulgent  as  the  sun  through  heaven.'  " 

To  him,  Hujir  evasive  thus  replies  :  — 
"  Through  all  the  extended  earth  his  glory  flies  ! 
Wherever  dangers  round  the  nation  close, 
Rustem  approaches,  and  repels  its  foes ; 
And  shouldst  thou  see  him  mix  in  mortal  strife, 
Thou'dst  think  'twere  easier  to  escape  with  life 
From  tiger  fell,  or  demon  —  or  the  fold 
Of  the  chafed  dragon,  than  his  dreadful  hold  — 
When  fiercest  battle  clothes  the  fields  with  fire, 
Before  his  rage  embodied  hosts  retire  !  " 

"And  where  didst  thou  encountering  armies  see? 
Why  Rustem's  praise  so  proudly  urge  to  me? 
Let  us  but  meet  and  thou  shalt  trembling  know, 
How  fierce  that  wrath  which  bids  my  bosom  glow : 
If  living  flames  express  his  boundless  ire, 
O'erwhelming  waters  quench  consuming  fire  ! 
And  deepest  darkness,  glooms  of  ten-fold  night, 
Fly  from  the  piercing  beams  of  radiant  light." 

Hujir  shrunk  back  with  undissembled  dread, 
And  thus  communing  with  himself,  he  said  :  — 


Sohrab.  5  5 

"  Shall  I,  regardless  of  my  country,  guide 
To  Rustem's  tent  this  furious  homicide  ? 
And  witness  there  destruction  to  our  host? 
The  bulwark  of  the  land  forever  lost  ! 
What  Chief  can  then  the  Tartar  power  restrain  ! 
Kaus  dethroned,  the  mighty  Rustem  slain  ! 
Better  a  thousand  deaths  should  lay  me  low, 
Than,  living,  yield  such  triumph  to  the  foe. 
For  in  this  struggle  should  my  blood  be  shed, 
No  foul  dishonor  can  pursue  me,  dead  ; 
No  lasting  shame  my  father's  age  oppress, 
Whom  eighty  sons  of  martial  courage  bless  !  * 
They  for  their  brother  slain,  incensed  will  rise, 
And  pour  their  vengeance  on  my  enemies." 
Then  thus  aloud  :  "  Can  idle  words  avail? 
Why  still  of  Rustem  urge  the  frequent  tale? 
Why  for  the  elephant-bodied  hero  ask? 

Thee,  he  will  find,  —  no  uncongenial  task. 
Why  seek  pretences  to  destroy  my  life? 
Strike,  for  no  Rustem  views  th'  unequal  strife  !  " 

Sohrab  confused,  with  hopeless  anguish  mourned, 
Back  from  the  lofty  walls  he  quick  returned, 
And  stood  amazed. 

The  War  Begins. 

Now  war  and  vengeance  claim, 
Collected  thought  and  deeds  of  mighty  name  ; 

1  Hujir  was  the  son  of  Gudarz.     A  family  of  the  extent  mentioned 
in  the  text  is  not  of  rare  occurrence  amongst  the  princes  ot    the 


56  Firdausi. 

The  jointed  mail  his  vigorous  body  clasps, 
His  sinewy  hand  the  shining  javelin  grasps  ; 
Like  a  mad  elephant  he  meets  the  foe, 
His  steed  a  moving  mountain  —  deeply  glow 
His  cheeks  with  passionate  ardor,  as  he  flies 
Resistless  onward,  and  with  sparkling  eyes, 
Full  on  the  centre  drives  his  daring  horse  —  l 
The  yielding  Persians  fly  his  furious  course ; 
As  the  wild  ass  impetuous  springs  away, 
When  the  fierce  lion  thunders  on  his  prey. 
By  every  sign  of  strength  and  martial  power, 
They  think  him  Rustem  in  his  direst  hour ; 
On  Kaus  now  his  proud  defiance  falls, 
Scornful  to  him  the  stripling  warrior  calls  : 
"  And  why  art  thou  misnamed  of  royal  strain? 
What  work  of  thine  befits  the  tented  plain  ? 
This  thirsty  javelin  seeks  thy  coward  breast ; 
Thou  and  thy  thousands  doomed  to  endless  rest. 
True  to  my  oath,  which  time  can  never  change, 
On  thee,  proud  King  !  I  hurl  my  just  revenge. 
The  blood  of  Zind  inspires  my  burning  hate, 
And  dire  resentment  hurries  on  thy  fate ; 
Whom  canst  thou  send  to  try  the  desperate  strife? 
What  valiant  Chief,  regardless  of  his  life? 
Where  now  can  Fraburz,  Tus,  Giw,  Gudarz,  be, 
And  the  world-conquering  Rustem,  where  is  he?  " 

East.  The  King  of  Persia  had,  in  1809,  according  to  Mr.  Morier, 
"sixty-five  sons/"  As  the  Persians  make  no  account  of  females, 
it  is  not  known  how  many  daughters  he  had. 

1  The  .Kulub-gah  is  the  centre  or  heart  of  the  army,  where  the 
sovereign  or  chief  of  the  troops  usually  remains. 


Sobrab.  57 

No  prompt  reply  from  Persian  lip  ensued,  — 
Then  rushing  on,  with  demon-strength  endued, 
Sohrab  elate  his  javelin  waved  around, 
And  hurled  the  bright  pavilion  to  the  ground ; 
With  horror  Kaus  feels  destruction  nigh, 
And  cries  :  "  For  Rustem's  needful  succor  fly  ! 
"  This  frantic  Turk,  triumphant  on  the  plain, 
Withers  the  souls  of  all  my  warrior-train." 
That  instant  Tus  the  mighty  Champion  sought, 
And  told  the  deeds  the  Tartar  Chief  had  wrought ; 
"  'Tis  ever  thus,  the  brainless  Monarch's  due  ! 
Shame  and  disaster  still  his  steps  pursue  !  " 
This  saying,  from  his  tent  he  soon  descried, 
The  wild  confusion  spreading  far  and  wide  ; 
And  saddled  Rakush  —  whilst,  in  deep  dismay, 
Girgin  incessant  cried  :  "  Speed,  speed,  away." 
Reham  bound  on  the  mace,  Tus  promptly  ran, 
And  buckled  on  the  broad  Burgustuwan. 
Rustem,  meanwhile,  the  thickening  tumult  hears 
And  in  his  heart,  untouched  by  human  fears, 
Says  :  "  ,JVhat  is  this,  that  feeling  seems  to  stun  ! 
This  battle  must  be  led  by  Ahriman,1 
The  awful  day  of  doom  must  have  begun." 
In  haste  he  arms,  and  mounts  his  bounding  steed, 
The  growing  rage  demands  redoubled  speed  ; 
The  leopard's  skin  he  o'er  his  shoulders  throws, 
The  regal  girdle  round  his  middle  glows.2 

1  Ahriman,  a  demon,  the  principle  of  evil. 

2  This  girdle  was  the  gift  of  the  king,  as  a  token  of  affection  and 
gratitude.  Jonathan  gives  to  David,  among  other  things, ^js  girdle  : 
"  Because  he  loved  him  as  his  own  soul."     i  Samuel  xviii.  3,  4. 


58  Firdausi. 

High  wave  his  glorious  banners ;  broad  revealed, 
The  pictured  dragons  glare  along  the  field 
Born  by  Zuara.     When,  surprised,  he  views 
Sohrab,  endued  with  ample  breast  and  thews, 
Like  Sam  Suvvar,  he  beckons  him  apart ; 
The  youth  advances  with  a  gallant  heart, 
Willing  to  prove  his  adversary's  might, 
By  single  combat  to  decide  the  fight ; 
And  eagerly,  "  Together  brought,"  he  cries, 
"  Remote  from  us  be  foemen,  and  allies, 
And  though  at  once  by  either  host  surveyed, 
Ours  be  the  strife  which  asks  no  mortal  aid." 

Rustem,  considerate,  viewed  him  o'er  and  o'er, 
So  wondrous  graceful  was  the  form  he  bore, 
And  frankly  said  :  "  Experience  flows  with  age, 
And  many  a  foe  has  felt  my  conquering  rage  ; 
Much  have  I  seen,  superior  strength  and  art 
Have  borne  my  spear  thro'  many  a  demon's  heart ; 
Only  behold  me  on  the  battle  plain, 
Wait  till  thou  see'st  this  hand  the  war  sustain, 
And  if  on  thee  should  changeful  fortune  smile, 
Thou  needst  not  fear  the  monster  of  the  Nile  ! * 
But  soft  compassion  melts  my  soul  to  save, 
A  youth  so  blooming  with  a  mind  so  brave  ! " 

The  generous  speech  Sohrab  attentive  heard, 
His  heart  expanding  glowed  at  every  word  : 
"  One  question  answer,  and  in  answering  shew, 
That  truth  should  ever  from  a  warrior  flow ; 

1 A  crocodile  in  war,  with  Firdausi,  is  a  figure  of  great  power  and 
strength. 


Sohrab.  59 

Art  thou  not  Rustem,  whose  exploits  sublime, 
Endear  his  name  thro'  every  distant  clime  ?  " 

"  I  boast  no  station  of  exalted  birth, 
No  proud  pretensions  to  distinguished  worth ; 
To  him  inferior,  no  such  powers  are  mine, 
No  offspring  I  of  Nirum's  glorious  line  !  "l 

The  prompt  denial  dampt  his  filial  joy, 
All  hope  at  once  forsook  the  Warrior-boy, 
His  opening  day  of  pleasure,  and  the  bloom 
Of  cherished  life,  immersed  in  shadowy  gloom. 
Perplexed  with  what  his  mother's  words  implied ;  — 
A  narrow  space  is  now  prepared,  aside, 
For  single  combat.     With  disdainful  glance 
Each  boldly  shakes  his  death- devoting  lance, 
And  rushes  forward  to  the  dubious  fight ; 
Thoughts  high  and  brave  their  burning  souls  excite ; 
Now  sword  to  sword ;  continuous  strokes  resound, 
Till  glittering  fragments  strew  the  dusty  ground. 
Each  grasps  his  massive  club  with  added  force,2 
The  folding  mail  is  rent  from  either  horse ; 
It  seemed  as  if  the  fearful  day  of  doom 
Had,  clothed  in  all  its  withering  terrors,  come. 
Their  shattered  corselets  yield  defence  no  more  — 
At  length  they  breathe,  defiled  with  dust  and  gore  ; 
Their  gasping  throats  with  parching  thirst  are  dry, 

i  It  is  difficult  to  account  for  this  denial  of  his  name,  as  there 
appears  to  be  no  equivalent  cause.  But  all  the  famous  heroes 
described  in  the  Shah-Nameh  are  as  much  distinguished  for  their 
address  and  cunning  as  their  bravery. 

2  The  original  is  Umud,  which  appears  to  have  been  a  weapon 
made  of  iron.    Umud  also  signifies  a  column,  a  beam. 


60  Firdausi. 

Gloomy  and  fierce  they  roll  the  lowering  eye, 
And  frown  defiance.     Son  and  Father  driven 
To  mortal  strife  !  are  these  the  ways  of  Heaven  ? 
The  various  swarms  which  boundless  ocean  breeds, 
The  countless  tribes  which  crop  the  flowery  meads, 
All  know  their  kind,  but  hapless  man  alone 
Has  no  instinctive  feeling  for  his  own  ! 
Compelled  to  pause,  by  every  eye  surveyed, 
Rustem,  with  shame,  his  wearied  strength  betrayed ; 
Foiled  by  a  youth  in  battle's  mid  career, 
His  groaning  spirit  almost  sunk  with  fear ; 
Recovering  strength,  again  they  fiercely  meet ; 
Again  they  struggle  with  redoubled  heat ; 
With  bended  bows  they  furious  now  contend ; 
And  feathered  shafts  in  rattling  showers  descend  ; 
Thick  as  autumnal  leaves  they  strew  the  plain, 
Harmless  their  points,  and  all  their  fury  vain. 
And  now  they  seize  each  other's  girdle-band ; 
Rustem,  who,  if  he  moved  his  iron  hand, 
Could  shake  a  mountain,  and  to  whom  a  rock 
Seemed  soft  as  wax,  tried,  with  one  mighty  stroke, 
To  hurl  him  thundering  from  his  fiery  steed, 
But  Fate  forbids  the  gallant  youth  should  bleed ; 
Finding  his  wonted  nerves  relaxed,  amazed 
That  hand  he  drops  which  never  had  been  raised 
Uncrowned  with  victory,  even  when  demons  fought, 
And  pauses,  wildered  with  despairing  thought. 
Sohrab  again  springs  with  terrific  grace, 
And  lifts,  from  saddle-bow,  his  ponderous  mace ; 
With  gathered  strength  the  quick-descending  blow 


Sobrab.  61 

Wounds  in  its  fall,  and  stuns  the  unwary  foe ; 
Then  thus  contemptuous:  "  All  thy  power  is  gone; 
Thy  charger's  strength  exhausted  as  thy  own ; 
Thy  bleeding  wounds  with  pity  I  behold ; 
O  seek  no  more  the  combat  of  the  bold  !  " 

Rustem  to  this  reproach  made  no  reply, 
But  stood  confused  —  meanwhile,  tumultuously 
The  legions  closed ;  with  soul-appalling  force, 
Troop  rushed  on  troop,  o'erwhelming  man  and  horse  ; 
Sohrab,  incensed,  the  Persian  host  engaged, 
Furious  along  the  scattered  lines  he  raged ; 
Fierce  as  a  wolf  he  rode  on  every  side, 
The  thirsty  earth  with  streaming  gore  was  dyed. 
Midst  the  Turanians,  then,  the  Champion  sped, 
And  like  a  tiger  heaped  the  fields  with  dead. 
But  when  the  Monarch's  danger  struck  his  thought, 
Returning  swift,  the  stripling  youth  he  sought ; 
Grieved  to  the  soul,  the  mighty  Champion  viewed 
His  hands  and  mail  with  Persian  blood  imbrued ; 
And  thus  exclaimed  with  lion-voice  :  "  O  say, 
Why  with  the  Persians  dost  thou  war  to-day? 
Why  not  with  me  alone  decide  the  fight, 
Thou'rt  like  a  wolf  that  seek'st  the  fold  by  night." 

To  this  Sohrab  his  proud  assent  expressed  — 
And  Rustem,  answering,  thus  the  youth  addressed. 
"  Night-shadows  now  are  thickening  o'er  the  plain, 
The  morrow's  sun  must  see  our  strife  again ; 
In  wrestling  let  us  then  exert  our  might  ! " 
He  said,  and  eve's  last  glimmer  sunk  in  night. 

Thus  as  the  skies  a  deeper  gloom  displayed, 


62  Firdausi. 

The  stripling's  life  was  hastening  into  shade  ! 

The  gallant  heroes  to  their  tents  retired, 
The  sweets  of  rest  their  wearied  limbs  required : 
Sohrab,  delighted  with  his  brave  career, 
Describes  the  fight  in  Human's  anxious  ear  : 
Tells  how  he  forced  unnumbered  Chiefs  to  yield, 
And  stood  himself  the  victor  of  the  field  ! 
"  But  let  the  morrow's  dawn,"  he  cried,  "  arrive, 
And  not  one  Persian  shall  the  day  survive ; 
Meanwhile  let  wine  its  strengthening  balm  impart, 
And  add  new  zeal  to  every  drooping  heart." 
The  valiant  Giw  with  Rustem  pondering  stood, 
And,  sad,  recalled  the  scene  of  death  and  blood  ; 
Grief  and  amazement  heaved  the  frequent  sigh, 
And  almost  froze  the  crimson  current  dry. 
Rustem,  oppressed  by  Giw's  desponding  thought, 
Amidst  his  Chiefs  the  mournful  Monarch  sought; 
To  him  he  told  Sohrab's  tremendous  sway, 
The  dire  misfortunes  of  this  luckless  day  ; 
Told  with  what  grasping  force  he  tried,  in  vain, 
To  hurl  the  wondrous  stripling  to  the  plain  : 
"  The  whispering  zephyr  might  as  well  aspire 
To  shake  a  mountain  —  such  his  strength  and  fire. 
But  night  came  on  —  and,  by  agreement,  we 
Must  meet  again  to-morrow  —  who  shall  be 
Victorious,  Heaven  knows  only  —  for  by  Heaven, 
Victory  or  death  to  man  is  ever  given." 
This  said,  the  King,  o'erwhelmed  in  deep  despair, 
Passed  the  dread  night  in  agony  and  prayer. 

The  Champion,  silent,  joined  his  bands  at  rest, 


Sohrab.  63 

And  spurned  at  length  despondence  from  his  breast ; 

Removed  from  all,  he  cheered  Zuara's  heart, 

And  nerved  his  soul  to  bear  a  trying  part :  — 

"  Ere  early  morning  gilds  the  ethereal  plain, 

In  martial  order  range  my  warrior-train ; 

And  when  I  meet  in  all  his  glorious  pride, 

This  valiant  Turk  whom  my  late  rage  defied, 

Should  misfortune's  smiles  my  arduous  task  requite, 

Bring  them  to  share  the  triumph  of  my  might ; 

But  should  success  the  stripling's  arm  attend, 

And  dire  defeat  and  death  my  glories  end, 

To  their  loved  homes  my  brave  associates  guide ; 

Let  bowery  Zabul  all  their  sorrows  hide  — 

Comfort  my  venerable  father's  heart ; 

In  gentlest  words  my  heavy  fate  impart. 

The  dreadful  tidings  to  my  mother  bear,1 

And  soothe  her  anguish  with  the  tenderest  care ; 

Say,  that  the  will  of  righteous  Heaven  decreed, 

That  thus  in  arms  her  mighty  son  should  bleed. 

Enough  of  fame  my  various  toils  acquired, 

When  warring  demons,  bathed  in  blood,  expired. 

Were  life  prolonged  a  thousand  lingering  years, 

Death  comes  at  last  and  ends  our  mortal  fears ; 

Kirshasp,  and  Sam,  and  Nariman,  the  best 

And  bravest  heroes,  who  have  ever  blest 

This  fleeting  world,  were  not  endued  with  power, 

To  stay  the  march  of  fate  one  single  hour ; 

The  world  for  them  possessed  no  fixed  abode, 

1  In   the   East,  peculiarly  strong   attachment   to   the   mother  is 
universal. 


64  Firdausi. 

The  path  to  death's  cold  regions  must  be  trod ; 
Then,  why  lament  the  doom  ordained  for  all  ? 
Thus  Jemshid  fell,  and  thus  must  Rustem  fall." 

RUSTEM    DECEIVES    SOHRAB. 

When  the  bright  dawn  proclaimed  the  rising  day. 
The  warriors  armed,  impatient  of  delay ; 
But  first  Sohrab,  his  proud  confederate  nigh, 
Thus  wistful  spoke,  as  swelled  the  boding  sigh  — 
"  Now,  mark  my  great  antagonist  in  arms  ! 
His  noble  form  my  filial  bosom  warms ; 
My  mother's  tokens  shine  conspicuous  here, 
And  all  the  proofs  my  heart  demands,  appear ; 
Sure  this  is  Rustem,  whom  my  eyes  engage  ! 
Shall  I,  O  grief!  provoke  my  Father's  rage? 
Offended  Nature  then  would  curse  my  name, 
And  shuddering  nations  echo  with  my  shame." 
He  ceased,  then  Human  :  "  Vain,  fantastic  thought, 
Oft  have  I  been  where  Persia's  Champion  fought ; 
And  thou  hast  heard  what  wonders  he  performed, 
When,  in  his  prime,  Mazinderan  was  stormed ; 
That  horse  resembles  Rustem's,  it  is  true, 
But  not  so  strong,  nor  beautiful  to  view." 

Sohrab  now  buckles  on  his  war-attire, 
His  heart  all  softness,  and  his  brain  all  fire ; 
Around  his  lips  such  smiles  benignant  played, 
He  seemed  to  greet  a  friend,  as  thus  he  said  :  — 
"  Here  let  us  sit  together  on  the  plain, 
Here,  social  sit,  and  from  the  fight  refrain ; 


Sohrab.  65 

Ask  we  from  heaven  forgiveness  of  the  past, 
And  bind  our  souls  in  friendship  that  may  last ; 
Ours  be  the  feast  —  let  us  be  warm  and  free, 
For  powerful  instinct  draws  me  still  to  thee ; 
Fain  would  my  heart  in  bland  affection  join, 
Then  let  thy  generous  ardor  equal  mine ; 
And  kindly  say,  with  whom  I  now  contend  — 
What  name  distinguished  boasts  my  warrior-friend  ! 
Thy  name  unfit  for  champion  brave  to  hide, 
Thy  name  so  long,  long  sought,  and  still  denied ; 
Say,  art  thou  Rustem,  whom  I  burn  to  know? 
Ingenuous  say,  and  cease  to  be  my  foe  !  " 

Sternly  the  mighty  Champion  cried,  "  Away,  — 
Hence  with  thy  wiles  —  now  practised  to  delay  ; 
The  promised  struggle,  resolute,  I  claim, 
Then  cease  to  move  me  to  an  act  of  shame." 
Sohrab  rejoined  —  "  Old  man  !  thou  wilt  not  hear 
The  words  of  prudence  uttered  in  thine  ear ; 
Then,  Heaven  !  look  on." 

Preparing  for  the  shock, 
Each  binds  his  charger  to  a  neighboring  rock ; 
And  girds  his  loins,  and  rubs  his  wrists,  and  tries 
Their  suppleness  and  force,  with  angry  eyes ; 
And  now  they  meet  —  now  rise,  and  now  descend, 
And  strong  and  fierce  their  sinewy  arms  extend ; 
Wrestling  with  all  their  strength  they  grasp  and  strain, 
And  blood  and  sweat  flow  copious  on  the  plain ; 
Like  raging  elephants  they  furious  close  ; 
Commutual  wounds  are  given,  and  wrenching  blows. 
Sohrab  now  claps  his  hands,  and  forward  springs 


66  Fir  da  usi. 

Impatiently,  and  round  the  Champion  clings ; 
Seizes  his  girdle  belt,  with  power  to  tear 
The  very  earth  asunder ;  in  despair 
Rustem,  defeated,  feels  his  nerves  give  way, 
And  thundering  falls.     Sohrab  bestrides  his  prey  : 
Grim  as  the  lion,  prowling  through  the  wood, 
Upon  a  wild  ass  springs,  and  pants  for  blood. 
His  lifted  sword  had  lopt  the  gory  head, 
But  Rustem,  quick,  with  crafty  ardor  said  :  — 
"  One  moment,  hold  !  what,  are  our  laws  unknown  ? 
A  Chief  may  fight  till  he  is  twice  o'erthrown  ; 
The  second  fall,  his  recreant  blood  is  spilt, 
These  are  our  laws,  avoid  the  menaced  guilt." 

Proud  of  his  strength,  and  easily  deceived, 
The  wondering  youth  the  artful  tale  believed ; 
Released  his  prey,  and,  wild  as  wind  or  wave, 
Neglecting  all  the  prudence  of  the  brave, 
Turned  from  the  place,  nor  once  the  strife  renewed, 
But  bounded  o'er  the  plain  and  other  cares  pursued, 
As  if  all  memory  of  the  war  had  died, 
All  thoughts  of  him  with  whom  his  strength  was  tried, 

Human,  confounded  at  the  stripling's  stay, 
Went  forth,  and  heard  the  fortune  of  the  day; 
Amazed  to  find  the  mighty  Rustem  freed, 
With  deepest  grief  he  wailed  the  luckless  deed. 
"  What !  loose  a  raging  lion  from  the  snare, 
And  let  him  growling  hasten  to  his  lair? 
Bethink  thee  well ;  in  war,  from  this  unwise, 
This  thoughtless  act  what  countless  woes  may  rise ; 
Never  again  suspend  the  final  blow, 


Sohrab.  67 

Nor  trust  the  seeming  weakness  of  a  foe  !  " l 

"  Hence  with  complaint,"  the  dauntless  youth  replied, 

To-morrow's  contest  shall  his  fate  decide." 

When  Rustem  was  released,  in  altered  mood 
He  sought  the  coolness  of  the  murmuring  flood  ; 
There  quenched  his  thirst ;  and  bathed  his  limbs,  and 

prayed, 
Beseeching  Heaven  to  yield  its  strengthening  aid. 
His  pious  prayer  indulgent  Heaven  approved, 
And  growing  strength  through  all  his  sinews  moved  ; 2 
Such  as  erewhile  his  towering  structure  knew, 
When  his  bold  arm  unconquered  demons  slew. 
Yet  in  his  mien  no  confidence  appeared, 
No  ardent  hope  his  wounded  spirits  cheered. 

The  Death  of  Sohrab. 

Again  they  met.     A  glow  of  youthful  grace, 
Diffused  its  radiance  o'er  the  stripling's  face, 
And  when  he  saw  in  renovated  guise, 
The  foe  so  lately  mastered ;  with  surprise, 
He  cried  :  "  What !  rescued  from  my  power,  again 
Dost  thou  confront  me  on  the  battle  plain? 
Or,  dost  thou,  wearied,  draw  thy  vital  breath, 

1  Thus  also  Sa'di :  "  Knowest  thou  what  Zal  said  to  Rustem  the 
Champion  ?  Never  calculate  upon  the  weakness  or  insignificance 
of  an  enemy." 

2  Rustem  is  as  much  distinguished  for  piety  as  bravery.  Every 
success  is  attributed  by  him  to  the  favor  of  Heaven.  In  the  achieve- 
ment of  his  labors  in  the  Heft-Khan,  his  devotion  is  constant,  and 
he  everywhere  justly  acknowledges  that  power  and  victory  are  derived 
from  God  alone. 


68  Firdausi. 

And  seek,  from  warrior  bold,  the  shaft  of  death  ? 
Truth  has  no  charms  for  thee,  old  man  ;  even  now, 
Some  further  cheat  may  lurk  upon  thy  brow ; 
Twice  have  I  shewn  thee  mercy,  twice  thy  age 
Hath  been  thy  safety  —  twice  it  soothed  my  rage." 
Then  mild  the  Champion  :  "  Youth  is  proud  and  vain  ! 
The  idle  boast  a  warrior  would  disdain  ; 
This  aged  arm  perhaps  may  not  control, 
The  wanton  fury  that  inflames  thy  soul ! " 

Again,  dismounting,  each  the  other  viewed 
With  sullen  glance,  and  swift  the  fight  renewed ; 
Clenched  front  to  front,  again  they  tug  and  bend, 
Twist  their  broad  limbs  as  every  nerve  would  rend  ; 
With  rage  convulsive  Rustem  grasps  him  round ; 
Bends  his  strong  back,  and  hurls  him  to  the  ground  ; 
Him,  who  had  deemed  the  triumph  all  his  own ; 
But  dubious  of  his  power  to  keep  him  down, 
Like  lightning  quick  he  gives  the  deadly  thrust, 
And  spurns  the  Stripling  weltering  in  the  dust. 
—  Thus  as  his  blood  that  shining  steel  imbrues, 
Thine  too  shall  flow,  when  Destiny  pursues ;  * 
For  when  she  marks  the  victim  of  her  power, 

1  The  expression  in  the  original  is  remarkable.  "  Assuredly,  as 
thou  hast  thirsted  for  blood,  Destiny  will  also  thirst  for  thine,  and 
the  very  hairs  upon  thy  body  will  become  daggers  to  destroy  thee." 
This  passage  is  quoted  in  the  preface  to  the  Shah  Nameh,  collated 
by  order  of  Bayisunghur  Khan,  as  the  production  of  the  poet  Unsari. 
Unsari  was  one  of  the  seven  poets  whom  Mahmud  appointed  to  give 
specimens  of  their  powers  in  versifying  the  history  of  the  kings  of 
Persia.  In  compliment  to  Mahmud,  perhaps  Firdausi  ingrafted 
them  on  his  own  poem,  or  more  probably  they  have  been  inter- 
polated since. 


Sobrab.  69 

A  thousand  daggers  speed  the  dying  hour. 

Writhing  with  pain  Sohrab  in  murmurs  sighed  — 

And  thus  to  Rustem  —  "Vaunt  not,  in  thy  pride; 

Upon  myself  this  sorrow  have  I  brought, 

Thou  but  the  instrument  of  fate  —  which  wrought 

My  downfall;  thou  art  guiltless — guiltless  quite; 

O  !  had  I  seen  my  father  in  the  fight, 

My  glorious  father  !     Life  will  soon  be  o'er, 

And  his  great  deeds  enchant  my  soul  no  more  ! 

Of  him  my  mother  gave  the  mark  and  sign, 

For  him  I  sought,  and  what  an  end  is  mine  ! 

My  only  wish  on  earth,  my  constant  sigh, 

Him  to  behold,  and  with  that  wish  I  die. 

But  hope  not  to  elude  his  piercing  sight, 

In  vain  for  thee  the  deepest  glooms  of  night ; 

Couldst  thou  through  Ocean's  depths  for  refuge  fly, 

Or  midst  the  star-beams  track  the  upper  sky  ! 

Rustem,  with  vengeance  armed,  will  reach  thee  there, 

His  soul  the  prey  of  anguish  and  despair." 

An  icy  horror  chills  the  Champion's  heart, 
His  brain  whirls  round  with  agonizing  smart ; 
O'er  his  wan  cheek  no  gushing  sorrows  flow, 
Senseless  he  sinks  beneath  the  weight  of  woe ; 
Relieved  at  length,  with  frenzied  look,  he  cries : 
"  Prove  thou  art  mine,  confirm  my  doubting  eyes  ! 
For  I  am  Rustem  ! "     Piercing  was  the  groan, 
Which  burst  from  his  torn  heart  —  as  wild  and  lone, 
He  gazed  upon  him.     Dire  amazement  shook 
The  dying  youth,  and  mournful  thus  he  spoke  :  — 
"  If  thou  art  Rustem,  cruel  is  thy  part, 


70  Firdansi. 

No  warmth  paternal  seems  to  fill  thy  heart ; 

Else  hadst  thou  known  me  when,  with  strong  desire, 

1  fondly  claimed  thee  for  my  valiant  sire ; 

Now  from  my  body  strip  the  shining  mail, 

Untie  these  bands,  ere  life  and  feeling  fail ; 

And  on  my  arm  the  direful  proof  behold  ! 

Thy  sacred  bracelet  of  refulgent  gold  ! 

When  the  loud  brazen  drums  were  heard  afar, 

And,  echoing  round,  proclaimed  the  pending  war, 

Whilst  parting  tears  my  mother's  eyes  o'erflowed, 

This  mystic  gift  her  bursting  heart  bestowed  : 

'  Take  this,'  she  said,  '  thy  father's  token  wear, 

And  promised  glory  will  reward  thy  care.' 

The  hour  is  come,  but  fraught  with  bitterest  woe, 

We  meet  in  blood  to  wail  the  fatal  blow." 

The  loosened  mail  unfolds  the  bracelet  bright, 
Unhappy  gift !  to  Rustem's  wildered  sight ; 
Prostrate  he  falls  —  "  By  my  unnatural  hand, 
My  son,  my  son  is  slain  —  and  from  the  land 
Uprooted."     Frantic,  in  the  dust  his  hair 
He  rends  in  agony  and  deep  despair ; 
The  western  sun  had  disappeared  in  gloom, 
And  still  the  Champion  wept  his  cruel  doom ; 
His  wondering  legions  marked  the  long  delay, 
And,  seeing  Rakush  riderless  astray, 
The  rumor  quick  to  Persia's  Monarch  spread, 
And  there  described  the  mighty  Rustem  dead. 
Kaus,  alarmed,  the  fatal  tidings  hears; 
His  bosom  quivers  with  increasing  fears. 
"  Speed,  speed,  and  see  what  has  befallen  to-day 


Sohrab,  71 

To  cause  these  groans  and  tears  —  what  fatal  fray  ! 
If  he  be  lost,  if  breathless  on  the  ground, 
And  this  young  warrior,  with  the  conquest  crowned  — 
Then  must  I,  humbled,  from  my  kingdom  torn, 
Wander  like  Jemshid,  through  the  world  forlorn."1 

The  army  roused,  rushed  o'er  the  dusty  plain, 
Urged  by  the  Monarch  to  revenge  the  slain ; 
Wild  consternation  saddened  every  face, 
Tus  winged  with  horror  sought  the  fatal  place, 
And  there  beheld  the  agonizing  sight,  — 
The  murderous  end  of  that  unnatural  fight. 
Sohrab,  still  breathing,  hears  the  shrill  alarms, 
His  gentle  speech  suspends  the  clang  of  arms  : 
"  My  light  of  life  now  fluttering  sinks  in  shade, 
Let  vengeance  sleep,  and  peaceful  vows  be  made. 
Beseech  the  King  to  spare  this  Tartar  host, 
For  they  are  guiltless,  all  to  them  is  lost ; 
I  led  them  on,  their  souls  with  glory  fired, 
While  mad  ambition  all  my  thoughts  inspired. 
In  search  of  thee,  the  world  before  my  eyes, 
War  was  my  choice,  and  thou  the  sacred  prize ; 
With  thee,  my  sire  !  in  virtuous  league  combined, 
No  tyrant  King  should  persecute  mankind. 
That  hope  is  past  —  the  storm  has  ceased  to  rave  — 
My  ripening  honors  wither  in  the  grave ; 
Then  let  no  vengeance  on  my  comrades  fall, 
Mine  was  the  guilt,  and  mine  the  sorrow,  all ; 
How  often  have  I  sought  thee  —  oft  my  mind 

1  Jemshid's  glory  and  misfortunes  are  the   constant  theme  of 
admiration  and  reflection  amongst  the  poets  of  Persia. 


72  Firdausi. 

Figured  thee  to  my  sight  —  o'erjoyed  to  find 
My  mother's  token  ;  disappointment  came, 
When  thou  deniedst  thy  lineage  and  thy  name ; 
Oh  !  still  o'er  thee  my  soul  impassioned  hung, 
Still  to  my  Father  fond  affection  clung  ! 
But  fate,  remorseless,  all  my  hopes  withstood, 
And  stained  thy  reeking  hands  in  kindred  blood." 
His  faltering  breath  protracted  speech  denied : 
Still  from  his  eyelids  flowed  a  gushing  tide ; 
Through  Rustem's  soul  redoubled  horror  ran, 
Heartrending  thoughts  subdued  the  mighty  man. 
And  now,  at  last,  with  joy-illumined  eye, 
The  Zabul  bands  their  glorious  Chief  descry  ; 
But  when  they  saw  his  pale  and  haggard  look, 
Knew  from  what  mournful  cause  he  gazed  and  shook, 
With  downcast  mien  they  moaned  and  wept  aloud  ; 
While  Rustem  thus  addressed  the  weeping  crowd  : 
"  Here  ends  the  war  !  let  gentle  peace  succeed, 
Enough  of  death,  I  —  I  have  done  the  deed  !  " 
Then  to  his  brother,  groaning  deep,  he  said  :  — 
"  O  what  a  curse  upon  a  parent's  head  ! 
But  go  —  and  to  the  Tartar  say  —  no  more, 
Let  war  between  us  steep  the  earth  with  gore." 
Zuara  flew  and  wildly  spoke  his  grief, 
To  crafty  Human,  the  Turanian  Chief, 
Who,  with  dissembled  sorrow,  heard  him  tell 
The  dismal  tidings  which  he  knew  too  well ; 
"And  who,"  he  said,  "  has  caused  these  tears  to  flow? 
Who,  but  Hujir?     He  might  have  stayed  the  blow; 
But  when  Sohrab  his  Father's  banners  sought, 


Sohrab.  7} 

He  still  denied  that  here  the  Champion  fought ; 

He  spread  the  ruin,  he  the  secret  knew, 

Hence  should  his  crime  receive  the  vengeance  due  ! " 

Zuara,  frantic,  breathed  in  Rustem's  ear, 

The  treachery  of  the  captive  Chief,  Hujir  ; 

Whose  headless  trunk  had  weltered  on  the  strand ; 

But  prayers  and  force  withheld  the  lifted  hand. 

Then  to  his  dying  son  the  Champion  turned, 

Remorse  more  deep  within  his  bosom  burned ; 

A  burst  of  frenzy  fired  his  throbbing  brain  ; 

He  clenched  his  sword,  but  found  his  fury  vain; 

The  Persian  Chiefs  the  desperate  act  represt, 

And  tried  to  calm  the  tumult  in  his  breast : 

Thus  Gudarz  spoke  :  "  Alas  !  wert  thou  to  give 

Thyself  a  thousand  wounds,  and  cease  to  live ; 

What  would  it  be  to  him  thou  sorrowest  o'er? 

It  would  not  save  one  pang  —  then  weep  no  more  ; 

For  if  removed  by  death,  O  say,  to  whom 

Has  ever  been  vouchsafed  a  different  doom  ? 

All  are  the  prey  of  death  —  the  crowned,  the  low, 

And  man,  through  life,  the  victim  still  of  woe." 

Then  Rustem  :  "  Fly  !  and  to  the  King  relate, 

The  pressing  horrors  which  involve  my  fate ; 

And  if  the  memory  of  my  deeds  e'er  swayed 

His  mind,  O  supplicate  his  generous  aid ; 

A  sovereign  balm  he  has  whose  wondrous  power, 

All  wounds  can  heal,  and  fleeting  life  restore ; l 

Swift  from  his  tent  the  potent  medicine  bring." 

1  The  Hindus,  in  their  books  on  medicine,  talk  of  drugs  for  the 
recovery  of  the  dead ! 


74  Firdausi. 

—  But  mark  the  malice  of  the  brainless  King  ! 
Hard  as  the  flinty  rock,  he  stern  denies 
The  healthful  draught,  and  gloomy  thus  replies  :  — 
"Can  I  forgive  his  foul  and  slanderous  tongue? 
The  sharp  disdain  on  me  contemptuous  flung? 
Scorned  midst  my  army  by  a  shameless  boy, 
Who  sought  my  throne,  my  sceptre  to  destroy  ! 
Nothing  but  mischief  from  his  heart  can  flow ; 
Is  it,  then,  wise  to  cherish  such  a  foe  ? 
The  fool  who  warms  his  enemy  to  life, 
Only  prepares  for  scenes  of  future  strife." 

Gudarz,  returning,  told  the  hopeless  tale  — 
And  thinking  Rustem's  presence  might  prevail, 
The  Champion  rose,  but  ere  he  reached  the  throne, 
Sohrab  had  breathed  the  last  expiring  groan. 

Rustem's  Grief. 

Now  keener  anguish  racked  the  father's  mind, 
Reft  of  his  son,  a  murderer  of  his  kind  ; 
His  guilty  sword  distained  with  filial  gore, 
He  beat  his  burning  breast,  his  hair  he  tore ; 
The  breathless  corse  before  his  shuddering  view, 
A  shower  of  ashes  o'er  his  head  he  threw  ; 1 
"  In  my  old  age,"  he  cried,  "  what  have  I  done? 
Why  have  I  slain  my  son,  my  innocent  son  ! 

1  Scattering  ashes  over  the  head  is  a  very  ancient  mode  of  ex- 
pressing grief.  Thus  2  Samuel  iii.  31 :  "  And  David  said  to  Joab, 
and  to  all  the  people  that  were  with  him,  Rend  your  clothes,  and 
gird  you  with  sackcloth,  and  mourn  before  Abner.'*  Also,  xiii.  16: 
"  And  Tamar  put  ashes  on  her  head,  and  rent  her  garment." 


Sobrab.  75 

Why  o'er  his  splendid  dawning  did  I  roll 

The  clouds  of  death, — and  plunge  my  burthened  soul 

In  agony  ?     My  son  !  from  heroes  sprung  ; 

Better  these  hands  were  from  my  body  wrung ; 

And  solitude  and  darkness,  deep  and  drear, 

Fold  me  from  sight  than  hated  linger  here. 

But  when  his  mother  hears,  with  horror  wild, 

That  I  have  shed  the  life-blood  of  her  child, 

So  nobly  brave,  so  dearly  loved,  in  vain, 

How  can  her  heart  that  rending  shock  sustain  ?  " 

Now  on  a  bier  the  Persian  warriors  place 
The  breathless  Youth,  and  shade  his  pallid  face ; 
And  turning  from  that  fatal  field  away, 
Move  toward  the  Champion's  home  in  long  array. 
Then  Rustem,  sick  of  martial  pomp  and  show, 
Himself  the  spring  of  all  this  scene  of  woe, 
Doomed  to  the  flames  the  pageantry  he  loved,1 
Shield,  spear,  and  mace,  so  oft  in  battle  proved ; 
Now  lost  to  all,  encompassed  by  despair ; 
His  bright  pavilion  crackling  blazed  in  air ; 
The  sparkling  throne  the  ascending  column  fed ; 
In  smoking  fragments  fell  the  golden  bed ; 
The  raging  fire  red  glimmering  died  away, 
And  all  the  Warrior's  pride  in  dust  and  ashes  lay. 

Kaus,  the  King,  now  joins  the  mournful  Chief, 
And  tries  to  soothe  his  deep  and  settled  grief; 
For  soon  or  late  we  yield  our  vital  breath, 
And  all  our  worldly  troubles  end  in  death  ! 

1  I  know  nothing  of  the  kind  in  any  of  our  epic  or  dramatic 
poets  superior  to  this  fine  burst  of  agonized  feeling  and  remorse. 


76  Fir  dan  si. 

"  When  first  I  saw  him,  graceful  in  his  might, 
He  looked  far  other  than  a  Tartar  knight ; 
Wondering  I  gazed  —  now  Destiny  has  thrown 
Him  on  thy  sword  —  he  fought,  and  he  is  gone  ; 
And  should  even  Heaven  against  the  earth  be  hurled, 
Or  fire  invvrap  in  crackling  flames  the  world, 
That  which  is  past  —  we  never  can  restore, 
His  soul  has  travelled  to  some  happier  shore. 
Alas  !  no  good  from  sorrow  canst  thou  reap, 
Then  wherefore  thus  in  gloom  and  misery  weep?" 

But  Rustem's  mighty  woes  disdained  his  aid, 
His  heart  was  drowned  in  grief,  and  thus  he  said  :  — 
"  Yes,  he  is  gone  !  to  me  forever  lost  ! 
O  then  protect  his  brave  unguided  host ; 
From  war  removed  and  this  detested  place, 
Let  them,  unharmed,  their  mountain-wilds  retrace ; 
Bid  them  secure  my  brother's  will  obey, 
The  careful  guardian  of  their  weary  way.1 
To  where  the  Jihun's  distant  waters  stray." 
To  this  the  King  :  "  My  soul  is  sad  to  see 
Thy  hopeless  grief — but,  since  approved  by  thee, 
The  war  shall  cease  —  though  the  Turanian  brand 
Has  spread  dismay  and  terror  through  the  land." 

The  King,  appeased,  no  more  with  vengeance  burned, 
The  Tartar  legions  to  their  homes  returned  ; 
The  Persian  warriors,  gathering  round  the  dead, 
Grovelled  in  dust,  and  tears  of  sorrow  shed ; 
Then  back  to  loved  Iran  their  steps  the  monarch  led. 

1  Zuara  conducted  the  troops   of  Afrasiyab  across  the  Jihun. 
Rustem  remained  on  the  field  of  battle  till  his  return. 


Sohrab.  77 

SOHRAB   TAKEN    HOME. 

But  Rustem,  midst  his  native  bands,  remained, 
And  further  rites  of  sacrifice  maintained  ; 
A  thousand  horses  bled  at  his  command, 
And  the  torn  drums  were  scattered  o'er  the  sand  ; 
And  now  through  Zabul's  deep  and  bowery  groves, 
In  mournful  pomp  the  sad  procession  moves. 
The  mighty  Chief  on  foot  precedes  the  bier ; 
His  Warrior-friends,  in  grief  assembled  near  : 
The  dismal  cadence  rose  upon  the  gale, 
And  Zal  astonished  heard  the  piercing  wail ; 
He  and  his  kindred  joined  the  solemn  train  ; 
Hung  round  the  bier  and  wondering  viewed  the  slain. 
"There  gaze,  and  weep  !  "  the  sorrowing  Father  said, 
"  For  there,  behold  my  glorious  offspring  dead  !  " 
The  hoary  Sire  shrunk  backward  with  surprise, 
And  tears  of  blood  o'erflowed  his  aged  eyes ; 
And  now  the  Champion's  rural  palace  gate 
Receives  the  funeral  group  in  gloomy  state  ; 
Rudabeh  loud  bemoaned  the  Stripling's  doom  ; 
Sweet  flower,  all  drooping  in  the  hour  of  bloom, 
His  tender  youth  in  distant  bowers  had  past, 
Sheltered  at  home  he  felt  no  withering  blast ; 
In  the  soft  prison  of  his  mother's  arms, 
Secure  from  danger  and  the  world's  alarms. 
O  ruthless  Fortune  !  flushed  with  generous  pride, 
He  sought  his  sire,  and  thus  unhappy,  died. 

Rustem  again  the  sacred  bier  unclosed ; 
Again  Sohrab  to  public  view  exposed ; 


78  Firciausi. 

Husbands,  and  wives,  and  warriors,  old  and  young, 
Struck  with  amaze,  around  the  body  hung, 
With  garments  rent  and  loosely  flowing  hair ; 
Their  shrieks  and  clamors  filled  the  echoing  air ; 
Frequent  they  cried  :  "  Thus  Sam  the  Champion  slept  ! 
Thus  sleeps  Sohrab  !  "     Again  they  groaned,  and  wept. 

Now  o'er  the  corpse  a  yellow  robe  is  spread, 
The  aloes  bier  is  closed  upon  the  dead ; 
And,  to  preserve  the  hapless  hero's  name, 
Fragrant  and  fresh,  that  his  unblemished  fame 
Might  live  and  bloom  through  all  succeeding  days, 
A  mound  sepulchral  on  the  spot  they  raise, 
Formed  like  a  charger's  hoof. 

In  every  ear 
The  story  has  been  told  —  and  many  a  tear, 
Shed  at  the  sad  recital.     Through  Turan, 
Afrasiyab's  wide  realm,  and  Samengan, 
Deep  sunk  the  tidings  ;  —  nuptial  bower,  and  bed, 
And  all  that  promised  happiness,  had  fled  ! 

The  Mother's  Grief. 

But  when  Tahmineh  heard  this  tale  of  woe, 
Think  how  a  mother  bore  the  mortal  blow  ! 1 
Distracted,  wild,  she  sprang  from  place  to  place ; 
With  frenzied  hands  deformed  her  beauteous  face ; 
The  musky  locks  her  polished  temples  crowned, 

1  It  would  appear  that  Human,  on  his  return,  sent  to  Tahmineh 
the  war-horse,  armor,  and  everything  belonging  to  her  unfortunate 
son. 


Sohrao.  79 

Furious  she  tore,  and  flung  upon  the  ground ; 

Starting,  in  agony  of  grief,  she  gazed,  — 

Her  swimming  eyes  to  Heaven  imploring  raised ; 

And  groaning  cried  :  "  Sole  comfort  of  my  life  ! 

Doomed  the  sad  victim  of  unnatural  strife, 

Where  art  thou  now  with  dust  and  blood  defiled  ? 

Thou  darling  boy,  my  lost,  my  murdered  child  ! 

When  thou  wert  gone  —  how,  night  and  lingering  day, 

Did  thy  fond  mother  watch  the  time  away ; 

For  hope  still  pictured  all  I  wished  to  see, 

Thy  father  found,  and  thou  returned  to  me, 

Yes  —  thou,  exulting  in  thy  father's  fame  ! 

And  yet,  nor  sire  nor  son,  nor  tidings,  came  : 

How  could  I  dream  of  this?  ye  met —  but  how? 

That  noble  aspect  —  that  ingenuous  brow, 

Moved  not  a  nerve  in  him  —  ye  met  —  to  part, 

Alas  !  the  life-blood  issuing  from  the  heart. 

Sho'rt  was  the  day  which  gave  to  me  delight, 

Soon,  soon,  succeeds  a  long  and  dismal  night ; 

On  whom  shall  now  devolve  my  tender  care? 

Who,  loved  like  thee,  my  bosom-sorrows  share  ? 

Whom  shall  I  take  to  fill  thy  vacant  place, 

To  whom  extend  a  mother's  soft  embrace? 

Sad  fate  !  for  one  so  young,  so  fair,  so  brave, 

Seeking  thy  father  thus  to  find  a  grave. 

These  arms  no  more  shall  fold  thee  to  my  breast> 

No  more  with  thee  my  soul  be  doubly  blest ; 

No,  drowned  in  blood  thy  lifeless  body  lies, 

Forever  torn  from  these  desiring  eyes ; 

Friendless,  alone,  beneath  a  foreign  sky, 


80  Firdausi. 

Thy  mail  thy  death-clothes  —  and  thy  father,  by  ; 
Why  did  not  I  conduct  thee  on  the  way, 
And  point  where  Rustem's  bright  pavilion  lay? 
Thou  hadst  the  tokens  —  why  didst  thou  withhold 
Those  dear  remembrances  —  that  pledge  of  gold? 
Hadst  thou  the  bracelet  to  his  view  restored, 
Thy  precious  blood  had  never  stained  his  sword." 
The  strong  emotion  choked  her  panting  breath, 
Her  veins  seemed  withered  by  the  cold  of  death  : 
The  trembling  matrons  hastening  round  her  mourned, 
With  piercing  cries,  till  fluttering  life  returned; 
Then  gazing  up,  distraught,  she  wept  again, 
And  frantic,  seeing  midst  her  pitying  train, 
The  favorite  steed  —  now  more  than  ever  dear, 
The  hoofs  she  kissed,  and  bathed  with  many  a  tear ; 
Clasping  the  mail  Sohrab  in  battle  wore, 
With  burning  lips  she  kissed  it  o'er  and  o'er ; 
His  martial  robes  she  in  her  arms  comprest, 
And  like  an  infant  strained  them  to  her  breast ; 
The  reins,  and  trappings,  club,  and  spear,  were  brought, 
The  sword,  and  shield,  with  which  the  Stripling  fought, 
These  she  embraced  with  melancholy  joy, 
In  sad  remembrance  of  her  darling  boy. 
And  still  she  beat  her  face,  and  o'er  them  hung, 
As  in  a  trance  —  or  to  them  wildly  clung  — 
Day  after  day  she  thus  indulged  her  grief, 
Night  after  night,  disdaining  all  relief; 
At  length  worn  out  —  from  earthly  anguish  riven, 
The  mother's  spirit  joined  her  child  in  Heaven. 


OMAR   KHAYYAM. 

There  is  probably  no  Persian  poet  so  well  known  to-day 
as  this  so-called  Eastern  Voltaire,  and  that  he  should  here 
occupy  the  place  usually  assigned  to  Anwari  simply  demon- 
strates Omar's  own  philosophy,  that  no  one  of  us  knows  of 
how  little  importance  we  are  after  all.  In  spite,  however, 
of  this  philosophy,  Omar,  in  the  last  half-century,  owing  to 
Fitzgerald's  matchless  translation,  has  been  read  from  East 
to  West.  Even  in  the  Rocky  Mountains  of  America  a 
frontiersman,  born  and  bred  in  that  region,  was  heard1  to 
quote  the  following  verse  :  — 

"  'Tis  but  a  Tent  where  takes  his  one  day's  rest 
A  Sultan  to  the  realm  of  Death  addrest ; 

The  Sultan  rises,  and  the  dark  Ferrash 
Strikes,  and  prepares  it  for  another  Guest." 

Ghias  ud-Din  Abul  Fath'  Umar  bin  Ibrahim,  better  known 
as  Omar  Khayyam,  was  born  at  Naishapur,  in  Khorasan. 
somewhere  between  1017  and  1050,  and  he  certainly  lived 
into  the  twelfth  century.  The  only  story  of  his  boyhood 
is  the  following,  which  is  probably  legendary. 

Omar  had  two  intimate  school  friends.  These  young 
men  while  studying  at  Naishapur  each  promised  the  other 
that  if,  in  after  years,  any  one  of  them  became  famous  he 
would  share  his  prosperity  with  his  less  fortunate  friends. 
Years  rolled  on.  One  of  them  did  become  famous.  Nizam-ul- 
Mulk  becoming  the  Prime  Minister  to  Sultan  Alp  Arslan2; 

1  See  the  Hon.  John  Hay's  speech  before  the  Omar  Khayyam 
Club  of  London,  December  8,  1897. 

2"  Alp  Arslan  was  the  son  of  Toghrul  Beg  the  Tartar,  who  had 
wrested  Persia  from  the  feeble  successor  of  Mahmud  the  Great  and 
81 


82  Omar  Khayyam. 

and  faithful  to  his  promise  he  gave  a  government  position 
to  his  friend  Hasan  ben  Sabah,  who  later  tried  to  supplant 
his  benefactor,  but  was  unsuccessful  and  was  publicly  dis- 
graced, after  which  he  became  the  head  of  a  set  of  Persian 
fanatics  called  Ismailians,  who,  under  his  evil  chieftainship, 
were  the  terror  of  the  early  Crusaders.  He  was  know^n  as 
the  "Chief  of  the  Assassins.11  Ultimately  "one  of  the 
countless  victims  of  the  Assassin's  dagger  was  Nizam- 
ul-Mulk,  the  old  schoolboy  friend.11  And  what  was 
Nizam-ul-Mulk's  gift  to  Omar  ?  A  pension  that  he  might 
have  solitude  ;  it  was  all  the  poet  asked,  solitude  in  which 
to  devote  his  time  to  mathematics,  astronomy,  and  poetry. 
His  Arabic  treatise  on  algebra  has  been  translated  into 
French,  and  Gibbon  says  of  the  calendar  which  he  and 
seven  of  his  mathematical  contemporaries  worked  out,  that 
it  is  a  "  computation  of  time  which  surpasses  the  Julian  and 
approaches  the  accuracy  of  the  Gregorian  style.11  Never- 
theless, it  never  went  into  effect. 

Omar  had  the  Oriental  love  for  roses,  —  and  he  is 
reported  to  have  said,  "My  tomb  shall  be  in  a  spot 
where  the  north  wind  may  scatter  roses  over  it.11  And  it 
was ;  for  one  of  his  pupils  tells  us  that  "  Years  after,  when 
I  chanced  to  revisit  Naishapur,  I  went  to  his  final  resting- 
place,  and  lo  !  it  was  just  outside  a  garden,  and  trees  laden 
with  fruit  stretched  their  boughs  over  the  garden  wall,  and 
dropped  their  flowers  upon  his  tomb,  so  that  the  stone  was 
hidden  under  them.11 

Omar  took  his  takhallus,  or  poetical  name,  of  Khayyam, 
which  means  tent-maker,  from  this  trade,  which  he  or  his 
father  is  said  to  have  at  one  time  followed.  This  Persian 
custom  of  taking  a  takhallus  is  adopted  by  almost  all  of 
these  poets,  because  they  introduce  their  name  into  their 
ghazels  or  poems,  usually  toward  the  end  ;   and  as   the 


founded  that  Seljukian  Dynasty  which  finally  roused  Europe  into  the 
Crusades."  —  Fitzgerald. 


Omar  Khayyam.  83 

proper  name  seldom  sounds  well  in  verse  they  choose  a 
desirable  one. 

The  Sufis,  a  sect  two  centuries  old  at  this  time,  claim  this 
philosopher  as  one  of  them,  although  during  Omar's  life- 
time they  feared  his  ridicule  and  hated  his  honesty  which 
scorned  to  disguise  his  doubts  under  their  veil  of  mysticism. 
Indeed  Omar  says  : 1  — 

"  If  I  myself  upon  a  looser  Creed 
Have  loosely  strung  the  Jewel  of  Good  deed, 
Let  this  one  thing  for  my  Atonement  plead  : 
That  One  for  Two  I  never  did  mis-read." 

Still  his  countrymen  find  in  his  epigrammatic  verses  an 
esoteric  meaning  he  never  meant.  The  Sufis  interpret 
their  Persian  poets  very  much  as  the  Songs  of  Solomon 
have  been  interpreted  by  the  Christians.  But  Omar's 
scepticism  was  real  enough  ;  it  belonged  to  the  age  of  reli- 
gious darkness  in  which  he  lived.  Christianity  to  him 
meant  the  Crusades. 

He,  like  Hafiz,  sang  of  "  woman,  wine,  and  song,1'  but  he 
also  pulled  hard  at  the  knotted  threads  of  life  which  taught 
him  this :  — 

"  And  this  I  know  :  whether  the  One  True  Light 
Kindle  to  Love,  or  Wrath-consume  me  quite, 
One  Flash  of  It  within  the  Tavern  caught 
Better  than  in  the  Temple  lost  outright." 

His  idea  of  contentment  we  find  in  the  following  as 
rendered  by  Emerson  :  — 

"  On  earth's  wide  thoroughfares  below 
Two  only  men  contented  go  : 
Who  knows  what's  right  and  what's  forbid, 
And  he  from  whom  is  knowledge  hid." 

Westerners  seem  almost  jealous  for  this  Oriental.  They 
resent  the  fact   that   a   narrow  Eastern    province   should 

1  Bodleian  Quatrain. 


84  Omar  Khayyam. 

claim  this  astronomer-poet  as  belonging  exclusively  to 
itself  ;  they  say  he  belongs  to  the  world  ! 

Certainly  reparation  has  been  made  to  Omar  and  his 
famous  translator,  Fitzgerald,  since  the  days  when  a  dis- 
couraged bookseller  in  London  threw  the  bulk  of  the  first 
edition  into  a  box  outside  his  shop  to  sell  for  "  a  penny 
apiece."  Here  they  were  found  by  Rossetti  and  Swinburne, 
and  now  copies  of  this  first  edition  cannot  be  bought  for  a 
hundred  dollars.  From  such  obscurity  this  Eastern  singer 
has  risen  into  a  positive  cult,  with  an  Omar  Khayyam 
Club  in  London,  organized  in  1892,  and  one  recently  started 
in  Boston  called  the  Omar  Khayyam  Club  of  America. 

When  one  glances  at  the  list  of  translators  of  this  Per- 
sian genius  and  also  the  different  editions  of  his  Rubaiyat, 
one  can  apprehend  how  true  it  seems  that  — 

"  There's  not  a  sage  but  has  gone  mad  for  thee." 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THE  RUBAIYAT.1 


The  sun  has  cast  on  wall  and  roof  his  net  of  burning  light, 
The  lordly  day  fills  high  the  cup  to  speed  the  parting 

night ; 
"  Wake  !  "  cries  in  silver  accents  the  herald  of  the  dawn  ; 
"  Arise  and  drink  !  the  darkness  flies — the  morning  rises 

bright." 

2. 
The  rosy  dawn  shines  through  the  tavern  door, 
And  cries,  "  Wake  !  slumbering  reveller,  and  pour  ! 

1  Anonymous,  but  accredited  to  E.  A.  Johnson. 


Rubaiyat.  85 

For  ere  my  sands  of  life  be  all  run  out, 

I  fain  would  fill  my  jars  with  wine  once  more." 

3- 

To  morrow  rank  and  fame  for  none  may  be, 

So  for  to-day  thy  weary  soul  set  free ; 

Drink  with  me,  love,  once  more  beneath  the  moon ; 

She  oft  may  shine  again,  but  not  on  thee  and  me. 

4- 

If  wine  and  song  there  be  to  give  thee  soul-entrancing 
bliss, 

If  there  be  spots  where  verdant  fields  and  purling  brook- 
lets kiss, 

Ask  thou  no  more  from  Providence,  nor  turn  thee  in 
despair ; 

If  there  be  any  paradise  for  man,  'tis  even  this. 

5- 

Thy  ruby  lip  pours  fragrance  unto  mine, 
Thine  eye's  deep  chalice  bids  me  drink  thy  soul ; 
As  yonder  crystal  goblet  brims  with  wine, 
So  in  thy  tear  the  heart's  full  tide  doth  roll. 

6. 

What  reck  we  that  our  sands  runout  in  Balkh  or  Babylon, 
Or  bitter  be  the  draught  or  sweet,  so  once  the  draught 

is  done. 
Drink  then  thy  wine  with  me,  for  many  a  silver  moon 
Shall  wax  and  wane  when  thou  and  I  are  gone. 


86  Omar  Khayyam. 

7- 

To  those  who  know  the  truth,  what  choice  of  foul  or  fair 
Where  lovers  rest ;  though  'twere  in  Hell,  for  them  'tis 

Heaven  there. 
What  recks  the  Dervish  that  he  wears  sackcloth  or  satin 

sheen, 
Or  lovers  that  beneath  their  heads  be  rocks  or  pillows 

fair. 

8. 

O  Love  !  chief  record  of  the  realms  of  truth, 
The  chiefest  couplet  in  the  ode  of  youth  ! 
Oh,  thou  who  knowest  not  the  world  of  love, 
Learn  this,  that  life  is  love,  and  love  is  ruth. 

9- 

Though  with  the  rose  and  rosy  wine  I  dwell, 
Yet  time  to  me  no  tale  of  joy  doth  tell ; 
My  days  have  brought  no  sign  of  hopes  fulfilled  ; 
'Tis  past  !  the  phantoms  fly,  and  breaks  the  spell. 

io. 

Though  sweet  the  rose,  yet  sorely  wounds  the  thorn ; 
Though  deep  we  drink  to-night,  we  rue  the  morn ; 
And  though  a  thousand  years  were  granted,  say, 
Were  it  not  hard  to  wait  the  last  day's  dawn? 

ii. 

As  sweeps  the  plain  the  hurrying  wind,  as  flows  the  rip- 
pling stream. 


Rubaiyat.  87 

So  yesterday  from  our  two  lives  has  passed  and  is  a 

dream  ; 
And  while  I  live,  these  to  my  soul  shall  bring  nor  hope, 

nor  dread, 
The  morrow  that  may  never  come,  the  yesterday  that 

fled. 

12. 

Oh,  joy  in  solitude  !  of  thee  well  may  the  poet  sing  ; 
Woe  worth  the  heart  that  owns  no  soil  wherein  that 

flower  may  spring ; 
For  when  wassail  sinks  in  wailing  and  traitor  friends  are 

gone, 
Proudly  through  vacant  hall  the  sturdy  wanderer's  step 

shall  ring. 

13- 
If  grief  be  the  companion  of  thy  heart, 
Brood  not  o'er  thine  own  sorrows  and  their  smart ; 
Behold  another's  woe,  and  learn  thereby 
How  small  thine  own,  and  comfort  thy  sad  heart. 

14. 

Oh,  swiftly  came  the  winter  wind,  and  swiftly  hurried 

past; 
So  madly  sought  my  longing  soul  the  rest  she  found  at 

last; 
Now  faint  and  weak  as  weakness'  self,  she  waits  but  for 

the  end ; 
The  bowl  is  broke,  the  wine  remains,  but  on  the  ground 

is  cast. 


88  Omar  Khayyam. 

Through  the  unknown  life's  first  dark  day  my  soul 
Did  seek  the  tablet  and  the  pen,  and  Paradise  and  Hell 
Then  read  the  teacher  from  his  mystic  scroll ; 
Tablet  and  pen  are  in  thine  hand,  and  so  are  Heaven 
and  Hell. 

16. 

Hast  seen  the  world?   All  thou  hast  seen  is  naught, 
All  thou  hast  said,  all  thou  hast  heard  or  wrought : 
Sweep  the  horizon's  verge  from  pole  to  pole,  'tis  vain ; 
Even  all  thou  hast  in  secret  done  is  naught. 

17. 
The  Architect  of  heaven's  blue  dome  and  Ruler  of  the 

wave 
In  many  a  grief-laden  heart  doth  deeper  plunge  the 

glaive, 
And  gathers  many  a  silken  tress  and  many  a  ruby  lip 
To  fill  his  puppet-show,  the  world,  and  his  chibouque, 
the  grave. 

18. 

Though  I  be  formed  of  water  and  of  clay, 
And  with  the  ills  of  life  content  for  aye, 
Ever  thou  bid'st  me  shun  the  joyful  cup. 
My  hand  is  empty  :  wherefore  bid'st  me  stay? 

19. 

Much  have  I  wandered  over  vale  and  plain, 
Through  many  climes,  in  joy,  in  grief  and  pain, 


Rubaiyat.  89 

Yet  never  heard  men  say  "  The  traveller 
Who  passed  this  way  has  now  returned  again." 

20. 

Lo,  blood  of  men  slain  by  the  stroke  of  doom  ! 
Lo,  dust  of  men  strewn  on  the  face  of  earth  ! 
Oh,  take  what  life  may  give  of  youth  and  mirth  ; 
Full  many  an  opening  bud  shall  never  bloom. 

21. 

Drink  !  for  thou  soon  shalt  sleep  within  the  tomb, 
Nor  friend  nor  foe  shall  break  the  eternal  gloom. 
Beware  !  and  tell  to  none  his  secret  dark,  — 
The  faded  cose  may  never  hope  to  bloom. 

22. 

Fill  high  the  cup  though  ache  the  weary  brow ; 

Fill  with  the  wine  that  doth  with  life  endow, 

For  life  is  but  a  tale  by  watch-fire  told. 

Haste  thee  !  the  fire  burns  low  —  the  night  grows  old  ! 


NIZAMI. 

Nizami,1  the  first  great  romantic  poet  of  Persia,  was 
born  1 141  a.d.  at  Ganja  in  Arran,  now  the  Russian  town 
of  Elizabethpol.  His  life  was  devoted  to  asceticism, 
mainly  due  to  the  religious  atmosphere  of  Ganja,  the 
inhabitants  of  which  were  Sunnites,  who  allowed  no  one 
to  remain  in  their  city  who  was  not  of  their  faith.  As  a 
recluse  Nizami  had  the  reputation  for  the  most  rigid  sanc- 
tity. Ata  Beg  wished  to  test  the  piety  of  this  poet,  so 
with  great  display  he  visited  him  in  his  humble  retreat, 
hoping  by  such  magnificence  to  tempt  Nizami  to  return 
with  him  to  court.  But  it  was  a  fruitless  journey,  and  Ata 
Beg  returned  filled  with  the  most  profound  veneration  for 
this  really  sincere  poet. 

Nizami,  whose  poetical  genius  has  been  ranked  next  to 
that  of  Firdausi,  did  not  publish  his  first  work  until  he 
was  nearly  forty  years  old.  This  work  was  called  The 
Storehouse  of  Mysteries,  and  was  a  result  of  his  medita- 
tions on  God  and  man.  Following  this,  appeared  the 
Khosru  and  Shirin,  a  Persian  romance  with  historical 
foundation.  In  appreciation  of  his  genius  he  is  said  to 
have  received  an  estate  consisting  of  fourteen  villages. 
His  Divan,  supposed  to  have  consisted  of  twenty  thou- 
sand verses,  came  out  about  1188,  followed  by  the  famous 
love  story  of  Laili  and  Majnun,  which  he  is  said  to  have 
written  in  four  months,  and  which  shows  his  remarkable 
power  in  depicting  human  passions.  Reading  Firdausi1s 
Shah-Nameh  gave  him  the  idea  of  writing  his  Alex- 
ander Book,  an  epic  divided  into  two  parts,  showing 
Alexander,   first   as   conqueror,   and   second   as  prophet, 

*  Nizam-ud-din  Abu  Muhammad  Ilyas  ben  Yusuf. 
90 


Laili  and  Majnun.  91 

philosopher,  and  traveller.  In  his  last  book,  the  Seven 
Fair  Faces,  he  returned  to  romantic  fiction  ;  for  this  book 
consists  of  seven  stories  told  to  the  Sassanian  king,  Bah- 
rain Gor,  by  his  seven  favorite  wives.  These  works  to- 
gether form  the  Five  Treasures  of  Nizami. 

The  poet's  masterpiece  is  the  famous  Bedouin  love 
story  of  Laili  and  Majnun,  which  is  so  frequently  com- 
pared to  Ariosto's  Orlando  Furioso,  and  is  the  Romeo  and 
Jidiet  of  the  East.  France  has  its  Abelard  and  Eloise, 
Italy  its  Petrarch  and  Laura,  and  Persia  and  Arabia  have 
this  pure,  pathetic  romance,  —  a  romance  which  the  Ori- 
entals consider  the  personification  of  faithful  love. 

If  he  had  been  a  Sufi,  we  should  say  that  Laili  and  Maj- 
nun might  be  meant  to  depict  the  passion  of  the  soul  in 
its  progress  to  eternity,  or  to  represent  the  "reciprocal 
affection  of  the  body  and  the  soul.'"1 

According  to  one  admirer,  the  character  of  the  poet 
justifies  any  spiritual  interpretation  of  this  poem,  and  it  is 
a  well-known  fact  that  in  the  Masnavi  and  Odes  of  Hafiz 
the  names  of  Laili  and  Majnun  seem  to  be  used  for  the 
Omnipresent  Spirit  of  God.2 

Sa'di  has  written  of  Nizami's  genius,  and  Hafiz  says  of 
him :  — 

"  Not  all  the  treasured  store  of  ancient  days 
Can  equal  the  sweetness  of  Nizami's  lays." 

THE   LOVES   OF   LAILI  AND   MAJNUN.3 

i. 

Saki,4  thou  know'st  I  worship  wine  ; 
Let  that  delicious  cup  be  mine. 

1  Horace  Hayman  Wilson,  late  Sanskrit  scholar  at  Oxford. 

2  Sir  William  Jones. 

3  Translated  by  Mr.  James  Atkinson. 

4  Saki,  cup-bearer. 


92  Ni{ami. 

Wine  !  pure  and  limpid  as  my  tears, 

Dispeller  of  a  lover's  fears  ; 

With  thee  inspired,  with  thee  made  bold, 

'Midst  combat  fierce  my  post  I  hold  ; 

With  thee  inspired,  I  touch  the  string, 

And,  rapt,  of  love  and  pleasure  sing. 

Thou  art  a  lion,  seeking  prey, 

Along  the  glades  where  wild  deer  stray ; 

And  like  a  lion  I  would  roam, 

To  bring  the  joys  I  seek  for  home ; 

With  wine,  life's  dearest,  sweetest  treasure, 

I  feel  the  thrill  of  every  pleasure  : 

—  Bring,  Saki,  bring  thy  ruby  now  ; 

Its  lustre  sparkles  on  thy  brow, 

And,  flashing  with  a  tremulous  light, 

Has  made  thy  laughing  eyes  more  bright. 

Bring,  bring  the  liquid  gem,  and  see 

Its  power,  its  wondrous  power,  in  me. 

— ^Ro  ancestors  have  I  to  boast ; 

The  trace  of  my  descent  is  lost. 

From  Adam  what  do  I  inherit? 

What  but  a  sad  and  troubled  spirit? 

For  human  life,  from  oldest  time, 

Is  ever  marked  with  guilt  and  crime ; 

And  man,  betrayer  and  betrayed, 

Lurks  like  a  spider  in  the  shade  ; 

But  wine  still  plays  a  magic  part, 

Exalting  high  the  drooping  heart. 

Then,  Saki,  linger  not,  but  give 

The  blissful  balm  on  which  I  live. 


Laili  and  Majnun.  93 

Come,  bring  the  juice  of  the  purple  vine, 

Bring,  bring  the  musky- scented  wine  ; 

A  draught  of  wine  the  memory  clears, 

And  wakens  thoughts  of  other  years.  — 

When  blushing  dawn  illumes  the  sky, 

Fill  up  a  bumper,  fill  it  high  ! 

That  wine  which  to  the  fevered  lip, 

With  anguish  parched,  when  given  to  sip, 

Imparts  a  rapturous  smile,  and  throws 

A  veil '  o'er  all  distracting  woes  : 

That  wine,  the  lamp  which,  night  and  day, 

Lights  us  along  our  weary  way  ; 

Which  strews  the  path  with  fruit  and  flowers, 

And  gilds  with  joy  our  fleeting  hours  ; 

And  lifts  the  mind,  now  grown  elate, 

To  Jemshid's2  glory,  Jemshid's  state.— 

But  of  the  kingly  race  beware ; 

'Tis  not  for  thee  their  smiles  to  share  : 

Smiles  are  deceitful,  fire  looks  bright, 

And  sheds  a  lucid,  dazzling  light ; 

But,  though  attractive,  it  is  known 

That  safety  dwells  in  flight  alone. 

The  moth  the  taper's  radiance  tries, 

But  'midst  the  flame  in  torment  dies  : 

And  none  lament  that  foolish  pride 

Which  seeks  to  be  with  kings  allied.  — 

Bring,  bring  the  musky-scented  wine  ! 

i  The  Nepenthe  of  Homer. 

2  The  story  of  Jemshid,  one  of  the  early  rulers  of  Persia,  is  finely 
told  in  the  Shah-Nameh. 


94  Ni{ami. 

The  key  of  mirth  !  it  must  be  mine ; 
The  key  which  opens  wide  the  door 
Of  rapture's  rich  and  varied  store  ; 
Which  makes  the  mounting  spirits  glad, 
And  feel  the  pomp  of  Kai-Kobad. 
Wine  o'er  the  temper  casts  a  spell 
Of  kindness  indescribable  : 
Then,  since  I'm  in  the  drinking  vein, 
Bring,  bring  the  luscious  wine  again  ! 
From  the  vintner  bring  a  fresh  supply, 
And  let  not  the  reveller's  lips  be  dry. — 
Come,  Saki,  thou  art  not  old,  nor  lame ; 
Thou'dst  not  incur  from  a  minstrel  blame  ; 
Let  him  wash  from  his  heart  the  dust  of  sorrow ; 
And  riot  in  social  bliss  till  the  morrow ; 
Let  the  sound  of  the  goblet  delight  his  ear, 
Like  the  music  that  breathes  from  Heaven's  own 
sphere. 


Laili. 

Mark,  where  instruction  pours  upon  the  mind 
The  light  of  knowledge,  simple  or  refined ; 
Shaikhs  of  each  tribe  have  children  there,  and  each 
Studies  whate'er  the  bearded  sage  can  teach. 
Thence  his  attainments  Kais l  assiduous  drew, 
And  scattered  pearls  from  lips  of  ruby  hue ; 

1  Kais   was   the   original  name   of  the   lover,  afterward   called 
Majnun,  in  consequence  of  the  madness  produced  by  his  passion. 


Laili  and  Ma j nun.  95 

And  there,  of  different  tribe  and  gentle  mien, 
A  lovely  maid  of  tender  years  was  seen  : 
Her  mental  powers  an  early  bloom  displayed ; 
Her  graceful  form  in  simple  garb  arrayed  : 
Bright  as  the  morn,  her  cypress  shape,  and  eyes 
Dark  as  the  stag's,  were  viewed  with  fond  surprise  ; 
And  when  her  cheek  this  Arab  moon  revealed, 
A  thousand  hearts  were  won ;  no  pride,  no  shield, 
Could  check  her  beauty's  power,  resistless  grown, 
Given  to  enthrall  and  charm  —  but  chiefly  one. 
Her  richly  flowing  locks  were  black  as  night, 
And  Laili l  she  was  called  —  that  heart's  delight : 
One  single  glance  the  nerves  to  frenzy  wrought, 
One  single  glance  bewildered  every  thought ; 
And,  when  o'er  Kais  affection's  blushing  rose 
Diffused  its  sweetness,  from  him  fled  repose  : 
Tumultuous  passion  danced  upon  his  brow ; 
He  sought  to  woo  her,  but  he  knew  not  how : 
He  gazed  upon  her  cheek,  and,  as  he  gazed, 
Love's  flaming  taper  more  intensely  blazed. 
Soon  mutual  pleasure  warm'd  each  other's  heart ; 
Love  conquer'd  both  —  they  never  dreamt  to  part ; 

1  Laili,  in  Arabic,  signifies  night ;  the  name,  however,  has  been 
referred  to  her  color,  and  she  is  accused  of  possessing  no  beauty 
but  in  the  eyes  of  her  lover,  being  short  in  stature,  and  dark  in 
complexion.  A  poet  is  said  to  have  addressed  her,  saying;  "Art 
thou  the  person  for  whom  Kais  lost  his  reason?  1  do  not  see  that 
thou  art  so  beautiful."  "  Silence !  "  she  said,  "  thou  art  not  Majnun." 
Another  observed  to  Majnun,  "  Laili  is  not  surpassing  in  beauty; 
what  occasions  this  adoration?  "  "  Thou  dost  not  see  Laili  with  my 
eyes !  "  was  his  brief  reply.  According  to  Nizami  and  history,  Laili 
not  only  existed  in  reality,  but  was  exquisitely  beautiful. 


96  Ni^ami. 

And,  while  the  rest  were  poring  o'er  their  books, 
They  pensive  mused,  and  read  each  other's  looks : 
While  other  schoolmates  for  distinction  strove, 
And  thought  of  fame,  they  only  thought  of  love  : 
While  others  various  climes  in  books  explored, 
Both  idly  sat  —  adorer  and  adored  : 
Science  for  them  had  now  no  charms  to  boast ; 
Learning  for  them  had  all  its  virtue  lost : 
Their  only  taste  was  love,  and  love's  sweet  ties, 
And  writing  ghazels  to  each  other's  eyes. 

Yes,  love  triumphant  came,  engrossing  all 

The  fond  luxuriant  thoughts  of  youth  and  maid  ; 
And,  whilst  subdued  in  that  delicious  thrall, 

Smiles  and  bright  tears  upon  their  features  played. 
Then  in  soft  converse  did  they  pass  the  hours,  — 

Their  passion,  like  the  season,  fresh  and  fair ; 
Their  opening  path  seemed  decked  with  balmiest 
flowers, 

Their  melting  words  as  soft  as  summer  air. 
Immersed  in  love  so  deep, 
They  hoped  suspicion  would  be  lulled  asleep, 

And  none  be  conscious  of  their  amorous  state  ; 
They  hoped  that  none  with  prying  eye, 
And  gossip  tongue  invidiously, 

Might  to  the  busy  world  its  truth  relate  : 
And,  thus  possessed,  they  anxious  thought 

Their  passion  would  be  kept  unknown ; 
Wishing  to  seem  what  they  were  not, 

Though  all  observed  their  hearts  were  one. 


Laili  and  Majnun.  97 

By  worldly  prudence  uncontrolled, 

Their  every  glance  their  feelings  told  ; 

For  true  love  never  yet  had  skill 

To  veil  impassioned  looks  at  will. 

When  ringlets  of  a  thousand  curls, 

And  ruby  lips,  and  teeth  of  pearls, 

And  dark  eyes  flashing  quick  and  bright, 

Like  lightning  on  the  brow  of  night  — 

When  charms  like  these  their  power  display, 

And  steal  the  wildered  heart  away  — 

Can  man,  dissembling,  coldly  seem 

Unmoved  as  by  an  idle  dream  ? 

Kais  saw  her  beauty,  saw  her  grace, 

The  soft  expression  of  her  face  ; 

And  as  he  gazed,  and  gazed  again, 

Distraction  stung  his  burning  brain : 

No  rest  he  found  by  day  or  night  — 

Laili  forever  in  his  sight. 

But,  oh  !  when  separation  came, 

More  brightly  glowed  his  ardent  flame ; 

And  she,  with  equal  sorrow  fraught, 

Bewailed  the  fate  upon  them  brought. 

—  He  wandered  wild  through  lane  and  street. 

With  frantic  step,  as  if  to  meet 

Something  which  still  his  search  defied, 

Reckless  of  all  that  might  betide. 

His  bosom  heaved  with  groans  and  sighs, 

Tears  ever  gushing  from  his  eyes ; 

And  still  he  struggled  to  conceal 

The  anguish  he  was  doomed  to  feel ; 


98  Ni{<zmi. 

And,  maddened  with  excessive  grief, 
In  the  lone  desert  sought  relief. 
Thither,  as  morning  dawned,  he  flew  , 
His  head  and  feet  no  covering  knew ; 
And  every  night,  with  growing  pain, 
The  woes  of  absence  marked  his  strain. 
The  secret  path  he  eager  chose 
Where  Laili's  distant  mansion  rose ; 
And  kissed  the  door,  and  in  that  kiss 
Fancied  he  quaffed  the  cup  of  bliss. 
How  fleet  his  steps  to  that  sweet  place  ! 
A  thousand  wings  increased  his  pace ; 
But  thence,  his  fond  devotions  paid, 
A  thousand  thorns  his  course  delayed. 

in. 

Majnun  seeks  Laili. 

The  lover  from  his  mistress  parted, 
Lingering,  oppressed,  and  broken-hearted. 
Sank,  like  the  sun  all  rayless,  down  — 
Khosru,1  without  his  throne  or  crown. 
With  matted  locks  and  bosom  bare, 
Unshielded  from  the  scorching  air, 
This  hapless  youth,  absorbed  in  grief, 
Hoped  with  his  friends  to  find  relief; 
The  few,  by  strong  affections  bound, 
And,  midst  his  woes,  still  faithful  found. 

1  Khosru,  a  king  of  Persia. 


Laili  and  Majnun.  99 

But  vain  the  refuge  —  friendship's  smile 
Could  not  his  love-lorn  heart  beguile  : 
Again  he  hastened  to  that  place  remote, 

Where  all  he  loved  in  life  had  gone  : 
He  called  her  magic  name,  but  she  was  not, 

Nor  of  her  kindred,  one,  not  one, 
In  that  sequestered  lonely  spot : 
He  called  a  thousand  times,  but  called  in  vain ; 
None  heeded,  for  none  heard  the  strain ; 
And  thence  no  fond  reply  that  hapless  youth  could  gain. 

Laili  had,  with  her  kindred,  been  removed 
Among  the  Nijid  mountains,  where 

She  cherished  still  the  thoughts  of  him  she  loved 

And  her  affection  thus  more  deeply  proved 

Amid  that  wild  retreat.     Kais  sought  her  there ; 

Sought  her  in  rosy  bower  and  silent  glade, 

Where  the  tall  palm  trees  flung  refreshing  shade. 

He  called  upon  her  name  again ; 

Again  he  called,  alas  !  in  vain ; 

His  voice  unheard,  though  raised  on  every  side ; 

Echo  alone  to  his  lament  replied ; 

And  Laili  !  Laili !  rang  l  around, 

As  if  enamored  of  that  magic  sound. 
Dejected  and  forlorn,  fast-falling  dew 
Glistened  upon  his  cheeks  of  pallid  hue 

1  Thus  Shakespeare,  in  Twelfth  Night,  i.  5 :  — 

"  Halloo  your  name  to  the  reverberate  hills, 
And  make  the  babbling  gossip  of  the  air 
Cry  out,  Olivia!" 


100  Ni{ami. 

Through  grove  and  frowning  glen  he  lonely  strayed, 

And  with  his  griefs  the  rocks  were  vocal  made. 

Beautiful  Laili !  had  she  gone  forever?  — 

Could  he  that  thought  support  ?  oh,  never,  never ! 

Whilst  deep  emotion  agonized  his  breast, 

He  to  the  morning-breeze  these  words  addressed  :  — 

"  Breeze  of  the  morn  !  so  fresh  and  sweet, 

Wilt  thou  my  blooming  mistress  greet ; 

And,  nestling  in  her  glossy  hair, 

My  tenderest  thoughts,  my  love,  declare  ? 

Wilt  thou,  while  mid  her  tresses  sporting, 

Their  odorous  balm,  their  perfume  courting, 

Say  to  that  soul-seducing  maid, 

In  grief  how  prostrate  I  am  laid  ! 

And  gently  whisper  in  her  ear 

This  message,  with  an  accent  clear :  — 

1  Thy  form  is  ever  in  my  sight, 

In  thought  by  day,  in  dreams  by  night ; 

For  one,  in  spirits  sad  and  broken, 

That  mole  would  be  the  happiest  token ; 

That  mole *  which  adds  to  every  look 

A  magic  spell  I  cannot  brook ; 

For  he  who  sees  thy  melting  charms, 

And  does  not  feel  his  soul  in  arms, 

Bursting  with  passion,  rapture,  all 

That  speak  love's  deepest,  wildest  thrall, 

1  The  mole  is  regarded  as  an  additional  charm  to  beauty  among 
Oriental  writers.  Thus  Hafiz  :  "  If  that  maid  of  Shiraz  would  accept 
my  hand,  I  would  give  for  the  black  mole  on  her  cheek  the  cities  of 
Samarcand  and  Bokhara."     See  Vol.  II.  344. 


Laili  and  Majnun,  101 

Must  be,  as  Kaf's '  ice-summit,  cold, 
And,  haply,  scarce  of  human  mould. 
Let  him,  unmoved  by  charms  like  thine, 
His  worthless  life  at  once  resign  — 
Those  lips  are  sugar,  heavenly  sweet ; 
O  let  but  mine  their  pouting  meet ! 
The  balsam  of  delight  they  shed  ; 
Their  radiant  color  ruby-red. 
The  Evil  eye  has  struck  my  heart, 
But  thine  in  beauty  sped  the  dart : 
Thus  many  a  flower,  of  richest 'hue, 
Hath  fallen  and  perished  where  it  grew; 
Thy  beauty  is  the  sun  in  brightness, 
Thy  form  a  Peri's  self  in  lightness ; 
A  treasure  thou,  which,  poets  say, 
The  heavens  would  gladly  steal  away  — 
Too  good,  too  pure,  on  earth  to  stay  ! '  " 


IV. 

Majnun  goes  to  Mecca. 

As  morning  broke,  the  sun,  with  golden  light, 
Eclipsed  the  twinkling  stars  of  silvery  white  ; 
And  Majnun,  rising,  eagerly  pursued 
The  path  which  wound  to  Laili's  solitude, 
Grieved  to  the  heart;  and,  as  he  went  along, 
His  lips  breathed  softly  some  impassioned  song 
Some  favorite  lay,  which  tenderly  expressed 
1  Kaf,  the  Caucasus. 


102  Ni^ami. 

The  present  feeling  of  his  anxious  breast. 

In  fancy  soon  her  image  he  beheld ; 

No  shadowy  cloud  her  lucid  beauty  veiled ; 

He  saw  her  fresh  as  morning's  scented  air  — 

Himself  exhausted  by  incessant  care  : 

He  saw  her  blooming  as  the  blushing  rose  — 

Himself  dejected  by  unnumbered  woes  : 

He  saw  her  like  an  angel  soft  and  bland  — 

Himself  consuming  like  a  lighted  brand  : 

Her  ringlets  flowing  loosely  to  the  ground, 

His  ringlets,  fetters  by  affection  bound  ; 

And  still,  all  faint  with  grief,  he  passed  his  days, 

Pouring  his  soul  out  in  melodious  lays. 

His  friends,  to  whom  his  griefs  are  known, 
His  altered  aspect  now  bemoan ; 
Alarmed  to  hear  the  sufferer  still 
In  frantic  mood  unceasing  fill 
The  night-breeze  with  his  plaintive  woes ; 
For  sorrow  with  indulgence  grows. 
They  try  to  soothe  his  wildered  mind, 
Where  reason  once  was  seen  enshrined  ; 
His  father,  with  a  father's  love, 
Sought  his  sad  sorrows  to  remove, 
And  gave  him  maxims  full  and  clear, 
And  counsel  meet  for  youth  to  hear. 
But,  though  good  counsel  and  advice 
May  often  lead  to  Paradise, 
When  love  has  once  the  heart  engrossed, 
All  counsel,  all  advice  is  lost ; 


Laili  and  Majnun.  103 

And  weeping  Majnun  not  a  word 
Of  his  poor  father's  counsel  heard. 
Ah  !  when  did  prudence  e'er  control 
The  frenzy  of  a  love-lorn  soul  ? 

Disconsolate  the  father  now 

Behind  the  Harem-screen  appears, 

Inquiring  of  his  females  how 

He  best  might  dry  the  maniac's  tears  ; 

And  what  had  drawn  the  sparkling  moon 

Of  intellect  from  him  so  soon. 

The  answer  of  both  old  and  young 

Was  ready  quivering  on  the  tongue  — 

"  His  fate  is  fixed  —  his  eyes  have  seen 

The  charms  of  his  affection's  queen 

In  all  their  winning  power  displayed  ; 

His  heart  a  captive  to  that  Arab  maid. 

Then  what  relief  canst  thou  supply  ? 

What  to  the  bleeding  lover,  doomed  to  die  ? 

What  but  fulfilling  his  desires? 

And  this  a  father's  generous  aid  requires. 

See  them  united  in  the  bands  of  love ; 

And  that  alone  his  frenzy  will  remove." 
These  words  (for  woman's  words  convey 

A  spell,  converting  night  to  day, 

Diffuse  o'er  troubled  life  a  balm, 

And  passion's  fiercest  fever  calm)  — 

These  words  relieve  the  father's  heart, 

And  comfort  to  his  thoughts  impart. 

Resolved  at  once,  he  now  with  speed 


104  Ni^ami. 

Marshals  his  followers,  man  and  steed ; 
And,  all  assembled,  bends  his  way 
To  the  damsel's  home,  without  delay. 

Approaching,  quick  th'  inquiry  rose  — 
"  Come  ye  hither  as  friends  or  foes  ? 
Whatever  may  your  errand  be, 
That  errand  must  be  told  to  me ; 
For  none,  unless  a  sanctioned  friend, 
Can  pass  the  boundary  I  defend." 

This  challenge  touched  Syd  Omri's  pride ; 
And  yet  he  calmly  thus  replied  :  — 
"  I  come  in  friendship,  and  propose 
All  future  chance  of  feud  to  close." 
Then  to  the  maiden's  father  said  :  — 
"  The  nuptial  feast  may  now  be  spread : 
My  son  with  thirsty  heart  has  seen 
Thy  fountain  pure  with  margin  green ; 
And  every  fountain,  clear  and  bright, 
Gives  to  the  thirsty  heart  delight. 
That  fountain  he  demands.     With  shame, 
Possessed  of  power,  and  wealth,  and  fame, 
I  to  his  silly  humor  bend, 
And  humbly  seek  his  fate  to  blend 
With  one  inferior.     Need  I  tell 
My  own  high  lineage,  known  so  well? 
If  sympathy  my  heart  incline, 
Or  vengeance,  still  the  means  are  mine. 
Treasure  and  arms  can  amply  bear 


Laili  and  Majnun.  105 

Me  through  the  toils  of  desert-war  ; 
Thou  art  the  merchant,  pedler-chief, 
I  the  buyer  ;  come,  sell,  —  be  brief ! 
If  thou  art  wise,  accept  advice  ; 
Sell,  and  receive  a  princely  price  !" 

The  sire  of  Laili  marked  his  haughty  tone, 
But  smoothly  answered,  —  "  Not  on  us  alone 
Depends  the  nuptial  union  —  but  on  Heaven, 
By  which  all  power,  and  right,  and  truth  are  given. 
However  just  our  reasoning  may  appear, 
We're  still  beset  by  endless  error  here  ; 
And  proffered  friendship  may  perchance  become 
The  harbinger  of  strife  and  of  the  tomb  ; 
Madness  is  neither  sin  nor  crime,  we  know, 
But  who'd  be  linked  to  madness  or  a  foe  ? 
Thy  son  is  mad  —  his  senses  first  restore  ; 

In  constant  prayer  the  aid  of  Heaven  implore  ; 

But  while  portentous  gloom  pervades  his  brain, 

Disturb  me  not  with  this  vain  suit  again. 

The  jewel,  sense,  no  purchaser  can  buy, 

Nor  treachery  the  place  of  sense  supply. 

Thou  hast  my  reasons  —  and  this  parley  o'er, 

Keep  them  in  mind,  and  trouble  me  no  more  !  ' 

Abashed,  his  very  heartstrings  torn, 

Thus  to  be  met  with  scoff  and  scorn, 

Syd  Omri  to  his  followers  turned, 

His  cheek  with  kindled  anger  burned ; 

But,  scorning  more  to  do  or  say, 

Indignant  homeward  urged  his  way. 


106  Ni{ami. 

And  now  for  a  disordered  mind, 
What  medicine  can  affection  find? 
What  magic  power,  what  human  skill, 
To  rectify  the  erring  will  ? 
—  The  necromancer's  art  they  tried  — 
Charms,  philtres  used,  to  win  a  bride, 
And  make  a  father's  heart  relent, 
As  if  by  Heaven  in  pity  sent.  — 
Vain  efforts  all.     They  now  address 
Kind  words  his  mind  to  soothe  and  bless, 
And  urge  in  his  unwilling  ear 
(Treason  and  death  for  him  to  hear). 
"  Another  love,  of  nobler  race, 
Unmatched  in  form,  unmatched  in  grace ; 
All  blandishments  and  fairy  wiles ; 
Her  every  glance  the  heart  beguiles ; 
An  idol  of  transcendent  worth, 
With  charms  eclipsing  royal  birth ; 
Whose  balmy  lips  like  rubies  glow; 
Sugar  and  milk  their  sweetness  show; 
Her  words  like  softest  music  flow : 
Adorned  in  all  the  pride  of  spring, 
Her  robes  around  rich  odors  fling ; 
Sparkling  with  gold  and  gems,  she  seems 
The  bright  perfection  of  a  lover's  dreams ; 
Then  why,  with  such  a  prize  at  home, 
For  charms  inferior  amid  strangers  roam? 
Bid  all  unduteous  thoughts  depart, 
And  wisely  banish  Laili  from  thy  heart." 
When  Majnun  saw  his  hopes  decay, 


Laili  and  Majmin.  107 

Their  fairest  blossoms  fade  away ; 
And  friends  and  sire,  who  might  have  been 
Kind  intercessors,  rush  between 
Him  and  the  only  wish  that  shed 
One  ray  of  comfort  round  his  head 
(His  fondly  cherished  Arab  maid), 
He  beat  his  hands,  his  garments  tore, 
He  cast  his  fetters  on  the  floor 
In  broken  fragments,  and  in  wrath 
Sought  the  dark  wilderness's  path ; 
And  there  he  wept  and  sobbed  aloud, 
Unwitnessed  by  the  gazing  crowd ; 
His  eyes  all  tears,  his  soul  all  flame, 
Repeating  still  his  Laili's  name, 
And  Laili  !  Laili  !  echoed  round, 
Still  dwelling  on  that  rapturous  sound. 
—  In  pilgrim-garb  he  reckless  strayed, 
No  covering  on  his  feet  or  head ; 
And  still,  as  memory  touched  his  brain, 
He  murmured  some  love-wildered  strain  : 
But  still  her  name  was  ever  on  his  tongue, 
And  Laili  !  Laili  !  still  through  grove  and  forest  rung. 

Sad  inmate  of  the  desert  wild, 

His  form  and  face  with  dust  defiled; 

Exhausted  with  his  grief's  excess, 

He  sat  him  down  in  weariness. 

"  Estranged  from  friends,"  he  weeping  cried, 

"  My  homeward  course  is  dark  to  me ; 
But,  Laili,  were  I  at  thy  side, 


108  Ni{ami. 

How  blessed  would  thy  poor  lover  be  ! 
My  kindred  think  of  me  with  shame  ; 
My  friends  they  shudder  at  my  name. 

That  cup  of  wine  I  held,  alas  ! 

Dropped  from  my  hand,  is  dashed  in  pieces ; 
And  thus  it  is  that,  like  the  glass, 

Life's  hope  in  one  dark  moment  ceases. 
O  ye  who  never  felt  distress, 

Never  gay  scenes  of  joy  forsaking, 
Whose  minds,  at  peace,  no  cares  oppress, 

What  know  ye  of  a  heart  that's  breaking  ! " 

Worn  out  at  length,  he  sank  upon  the  ground, 
And  there  in  tears  the  mournful  youth  is  found 
By  those  who  traced  his  wanderings  :  gently  they 
Home  to  his  sire  the  faded  form  convey : 
Syd  Omri  and  his  kinsmen  round  him  moan, 
And,  weeping  wildly,  make  his  griefs  their  own ; 
And,  garrulous,  recall  to  memory's  eye 
The  progress  of  his  life  from  infancy  — 
The  flattering  promise  of  his  boyish  days  — 
And  find  the  wreck  of  hope  on  which  they  gaze. 
They  deemed  that  Mecca's  sacred  fane 
His  reason  would  restore  again ; 
That  blessed  boon  to  mortals  given, 
The  arc  of  earth,  the  arc  of  heaven ; 
The  holy  Kaba  where  the  prophet  prayed, 
Where  Zam-Zam's  waters  yield  their  saving  aid. 
'Tis  now  the  season  of  the  pilgrimage, 


Laili  and  Majnun.  109 

And  now  assemble  merchant,  chieftain,  sage, 
With  vows  and  offerings,  on  that  spot  divine  : 
Thousands  and  thousands  throng  the  splendid  shrine. 
And  now,  on  that  high  purpose  bent,  await 
Syd  Omri's  camels,  ready  at  his  gate ; 
Around  their  necks  the  tinkling  bells  are  hung, 
Rich-tasselled  housings  on  their  backs  are  flung, 
And  Majnun,  faint,  and  reckless  what  may  be, 
Is  on  a  litter  placed  —  sad  sight  to  see  !  — 
And  tenderly  caressed,  whilst  borne  along 
By  the  rough-moving  camel,  fleet  and  strong. 
The  desert  soon  is  passed,  and  Mecca's  bright 
And  glittering  minarets  rise  upon  the  sight ; 
Where  golden  gifts,  and  sacrifice,  and  prayer, 
Secure  the  absolution  sought  for  there. 
The  father,  entering  that  all-powerful  shrine, 
Thus  prays :    "  Have   mercy,  Heaven,  on    me  and 

mine  ! 
Oh,  from  my  son  this  frenzied  mood  remove, 
And  save  him,  save  him  from  the  bane  of  love ! " 

Majnun  at  this,  poor  wayward  child, 

Looked  in  his  father's  face  and  smiled ; 

And  frankly  said  his  life  should  prove 

The  truth  and  holiness  of  love. 

"  My  heart  is  bound  by  beauty's  spell, 

My  love  is  indestructible. 

Am  I  to  separate  from  my  own, 

From  her  for  whom  I  breathe  alone  ? 

What  friend  could  wish  me  to  resign 

A  love  so  pure,  so  true  as  mine  ? 


1 10  Ni{ami. 

What  though  I  like  a  taper  burn, 
And  almost  to  a  shadow  turn, 
I  envy  not  the  heart  that's  free  — 
Love's  soul-encircling  chains  for  me  !  " 

The  love  that  springs  from  Heaven  is  blessed 
Unholy  passions  stain  the  rest ; 
That  is  not  love  :  wild  fancy's  birth, 

Which  lives  on  change,  is  constant  never : 
But  Maj nun's  love  was  not  of  earth, 

Glowing  with  heavenly  truth  forever ; 
An  earthly  object  raised  the  flame, 
But  'twas  from  Heaven  the  inspiration  came. 

In  silent  sorrow  the  aged  sire 
Found  all  his  cares  were  vain ; 

And  back  to  his  expecting  tribe 

Addressed  his  steps  again ; 
For  Mecca  had  no  power  to  cool 

The  lover's  burning  brain ; 
No  consolation,  no  relief 
For  the  old  man's  heart-consuming  grief. 


Majnun  returns  Home. 

Sweet  Laili's  kinsmen  now  describe 
To  the  proud  chieftain  of  their  tribe 
A  youth  amidst  the  desert  seen, 
In  strange  attire,  of  frantic  mien  ; 


Laili  and  Majnun.  Ill 

His  arms  outstretched,  his  head  all  bare, 

And  floating  loose  his  clustering  hair : 

"  In  a  distracted  mood  "  —  they  say  — 

"  He  wanders  hither  every  day ; 

And  often,  with  fantastic  bound, 

Dances,  or  prostrate  hugs  the  ground ; 

Or,  in  a  voice  the  soul  to  move, 

Warbles  the  melting  songs  of  love  ; 

Songs  which,  when  breathed  in  tones  so  true, 

A  thousand  hearts  at  once  subdue. 

He  speaks  —  and  all  who  listen  hear 

Words  which  they  hold  in  memory  dear ; 

And  we  and  thine  endure  the  shame, 

And  Laili  blushes  at  his  name." 

And  now  the  chieftain,  roused  to  wrath, 

Threatens  to  cross  the  maniac's  path. 

But,  haply,  to  prevent  that  barbarous  deed, 
To  Omri's  palmy  groves  the  tidings  flew, 
And  soon  the  father  sends  a  chosen  few 

To  seek  the  lost  one.     Promptly  they  proceed 
O'er  open  plain  and  thicket  deep, 
Embowering  glen  and  rocky  steep, 
Exploring  with  unwearied  eye 
Wherever  man  might  pass  or  lie, 
O'ercome  by  grief  or  death.     In  vain 
Their  sight  on  every  side  they  strain, 
No  Majnun's  voice,  nor  form,  to  cheer 
Their  anxious  hearts  ;  but  far  and  near 
The  yell  of  prowling  beasts  they  hear. 


112  Miami. 

Mournful,  they  deem  him  lost  or  dead, 

And  tears  of  bitterest  anguish  shed. 

But  he,  the  wanderer  from  his  home, 

Found  not  from  beasts  a  living  tomb ; 

His  passion's  pure  and  holy  flame 

Their  native  fierceness  seemed  to  tame ; 

Tiger  and  ravenous  wolf  passed  by  him, 

The  fell  hyena  came  not  nigh  him ; 

As  if,  ferocity  to  quell, 

His  form  had  been  invisible, 

Or  bore  a  life-protecting  spell. 

Upon  a  fountain's  emerald  brink 

Majnun  had  stooped  its  lucid  wave  to  drink ; 

And  his  despairing  friends  descried 

Him  laid  along  that  murmuring  fountain's  side, 

Wailing  his  sorrows  still ;  his  feeble  voice 

Dwelt,  ever  dwelt,  upon  his  heart's  sole  choice. 

A  wild  emotion  trembled  in  his  eye, 

His  bosom  wrung  with  many  a  deep-drawn  sigh  ; 

And  groans,  and  tears,  and  music's  softest  lay, 

Successive  marked  his  melancholy  day. 

—  Now  he  is  stretched  along  the  burning  sand, 

A  stone  his  pillow  —  now,  upraised  his  hand, 

He  breathes  a  prayer  for  Laili,  and  again 

The  desert  echoes  with  some  mournful  strain. 

As  wine  deprives  us  of  the  sense  we  boast, 

So  reason  in  love's  maddening  draughts  is  lost. 

Restored  to  home  again,  he  dreads  to  meet 
His  father's  frowns,  and  bends  to  kiss  his  feet ; 


Laili  and  Majnun.  113 

Then,  gazing  wildly,  rises  up,  and  speaks, 

And  in  a  piteous  tone  forgiveness  seeks  :  — 

"  Sad  is  my  fate,  o'ercast  my  youthful  morn, 

My  rose's  leaves,  my  life's  sweet  buds  are  torn  ; 

I  sit  in  darkness,  ashes  o'er  my  head, 

To  all  the  world's  alluring  pleasures  dead ; 

For  me  what  poor  excuse  can  soothe  thy  mind  ? 

Thou  art  my  father  still  —  O  still  be  kind  !  " 

Syd  Omri  his  unchanged  affection  proved, 

And,  folding  to  his  breast  the  child  he  loved, 

Exclaimed  :  "  My  boy  !  I  grieve  to  mark 

Thy  reason  erring  still,  and  dark : 

A  fire  consuming  every  thread 

Of  which  thy  thrilling  nerves  are  made. 

Sit  down,  and  from  thy  eyesight  tear 

The  poisonous  thorn  that  rankles  there  : 

'Tis  best  we  should  to  mirth  incline, 

But  let  it  not  be  raised  by  wine  : 

'Tis  well  desire  should  fill  the  breast ; 

Not  such  desire  as  breaks  our  rest. 

Remain  not  under  grief's  control, 

Nor  taunt  of  foe  which  stings  the  soul ; 

Let  wisdom  every  moment  guide  ; 

Error  but  swells  affliction's  tide ; 

What  though  thy  love  hath  set  thee  all  on  fire, 

And  thy  heart  burns  with  still  unquenched  desire, 

Despair  not  of  a  remedy  ; 

From  seedling  springs  the  shady  tree ; 

From  hope  continued  follows  gladness, 

Which  dull  despair  had  lost  in  sadness ; 


114  Ni^ami. 

jf 

Associate  with  the  wealthy,  they 
Will  show  to  glittering  wealth  the  way ; 
A  wanderer  never  gathers  store, 
Be  thou  a  wanderer  now  no  more. 
Wealth  opens  every  door,  and  gives 
Command,  and  homage  still  receives : 
Be  patient,  then,  and  patience  will 
By  slow  degrees  thy  coffers  fill. 
That  river,  rolling  deep  and  broad, 
Once  but  a  narrow  streamlet  flowed ; 
That  lofty  mountain,  now  in  view, 
Its  height  from  small  beginnings  drew. 
He  who  impatient  hurries  on, 
Hoping  for  gems,  obtains  a  stone, 
Shrewdness  and  cunning  gain  the  prize, 
While  wisdom's  self  unprosperous  lies  : 
The  fox  of  crafty,  subtle  mind 
Leaves  the  wolfs  dulness  far  behind ; 
Be  thou  discreet,  thy  thoughts  employ, 
The  world's  inviting  pomp  enjoy.  — 
In  search  of  wealth  from  day  to  day 
Love's  useless  passion  dies  away ; 
The  sensual  make  disease  their  guest, 
And  nourish  scorpions  in  their  breast. 
And  is  thy  heart  so  worthless  grown, 
To  be  the  cruel  sport  of  one  ? 
Keep  it  from  woman's  scathe,  and  still 
Obedient  to  thy  own  free  will, 
And  mindful  of  a  parent's  voice, 
Make  him,  and  not  thy  foes,  rejoice." 


Laili  and  Majnun.  115 

Majnun  replied  :  "  My  father  !  —  father  still  !  — 
My  power  is  gone  ;  I  cannot  change  my  will : 
The  moral  counsel  thou  hast  given  to  me 
(To  one  who  cannot  from  his  bondage  flee) 
Avails  me  nothing.     'Tis  no  choice  of  mine, 
But  Fate's  decree,  that  I  should  thus  repine  : 
Stand  I  alone  ?     Look  round,  on  every  side 
Are  broken  hearts,  by  sternest  fortune  tried : 
Shadows  are  not  self-made  —  the  silver  moon 
Is  not  self-stationed,  but  th'  Almighty's  boon. 
From  the  huge  elephant's  stupendous  form, 
To  that  of  the  poor  ant,  the  smallest  worm, 
Through  every  grade  of  life,  all  power  is  given, 
All  joy  or  anguish,  by  the  Lord  of  Heaven. 
I  sought  not,  I,  misfortune  —  but  it  came ; 
I  sought  not  fire,  yet  my  heart  is  all  flame  : 
They  ask  me  why  I  never  laugh  nor  smile, 
Though  laughter  be  no  sign  of  sense  the  while. 
If  I  should  laugh  in  merry  mood,  agape, 
Amidst  my  mirth  some  secret  might  escape. 
—  A  partridge  seized  an  ant,  resolved  to  kill 
The  feeble  creature  with  his  horny  bill ; 
When,  laughing  loud,  the  ant  exclaimed  — '  Alas  ! 
A  partridge  thou  !  and  art  thou  such  an  ass? 
I'm  but  a  gnat,  and  dost  thou  think  to  float 
A  gnat's  slight  filmy  texture  down  thy  throat  ? ' 
The  partridge  laughed  at  this  unusual  sound, 
And,  laughing,  dropped  the  ant  upon  the  ground. 
Thus  he  who  idly  laughs  will  always  find 
Some  grief  succeed  —  'tis  so  with  all  mankind. 


116  Ni{ami. 

The  stupid  partridge,  laughing,  drooped  his  crest, 

And  by  that  folly  lost  what  he  possessed. 

—  This  poor  old  drudge,  which  bears  its  heavy  load, 

Must  all  life  long  endure  the  same  rough  road ; 

No  joy  for  him,  in  mortal  aid  no  trust, 

No  rest  till  death  consigns  him  to  the  dust." 

Here  paused  the  youth,  and  wept ;  and  now 

The  household  smooth  his  furrowed  brow, 

And  with  unceasing  eagerness 

Seek  to  remove  his  soul's  distress. 

But  grief,  corroding  grief,  allows  no  space 

For  quiet  thoughts  ;  his  wounds  break  out  anew  ; 
His  kindred  every  change  of  feature  trace, 

And  unavailing  tears  their  cheeks  bedew ; 
A  deeper,  keener  anguish  marks  his  face ; 
His  faded  form  so  haggard  to  the  view ; 
Useless  the  task  his  sorrows  to  remove, 
For  who  can  free  the  heart  from  love,  unchanging  love  ? 

Few  days  had  passed,  when,  frantic  grown, 

He  burst  from  his  domestic  prison, 
And  in  the  desert  wild,  alone, 

Poured,  like  the  morning  bird,  new  risen, 
His  ardent  lay  of  love.     Not  long 
The  mountains  echoed  with  his  song, 
Ere,  drawn  by  sounds  so  sweet  and  clear, 
A  crowd  of  listeners  hovered  near  : 
They  saw  him,  tall  as  cypress,  stand, 
A  rocky  fragment  in  his  hand ; 


Laili  and  Majnun.  117 

A  purple  sash  his  waist  around, 
His  legs  with  links  of  iron  bound ; 
Yet,  unencumbered  was  his  gait ; 
They  only  showed  his  maniac  state. 

7&  7$;  vf:  3&  vfc  vfc  3fr 

Wandering  he  reached  a  spot  of  ground, 
With  palmy  groves  and  poplars  crowned ; 
A  lively  scene  it  was  to  view, 
Where  flowers  too  bloomed,  of  every  hue  ; 
In  wonder  lost,  he  saw  the  axe  applied 
To  fell  a  cypress  tree  —  and  thus  he  cried  : 
"  Gardener  !  did  ever  love  thy  heart  control  ? 
Was  ever  woman  mistress  of  thy  soul  ? 
When  joy  has  thrilled  through  every  glowing  nerve, 
Hadst  thou  no  wish  that  feeling  to  preserve  ? 
Does  not  a  woman's  love  delight,  entrance, 
And  every  blessing  fortune  yields  enhance  ? 
Then  stop  that  lifted  hand,  the  stroke  suspend, 
Spare,  spare  the  cypress  tree,  and  be  my  friend  ! 
And  why  ?     Look  there,  and  be  forewarned  by  me, 
'Tis  Laili's  form,  all  grace  and  majesty ; 
Wouldst  thou  root  up  resemblance  so  complete, 
And  lay  its  branches  withering  at  thy  feet  ? 
What  !  Laili's  form  ?  no  ;  spare  the  cypress  tree  ; 
Let  it  remain,  still  beautiful  and  free ; 
Yes,  let  my  prayers  thy  kindliest  feelings  move, 
And  save  the  graceful  shape  of  her  I  love  ! " 
—  The  gardener  dropped   his   axe,  o'ercome  with 
shame, 
And  left  the  tree  to  bloom,  and  speak  of  Laili's  fame. 


118  Ni{ami. 


VI. 

Laili  Writes. 

Laili  in  beauty,  softness,  grace, 
Surpassed  the  loveliest  of  her  race  ; 
She  was  a  fresh  and  odorous  flower, 
Plucked  by  a  fairy  from  her  bower ; 
With  heart-delighting  rosebuds  blooming, 
The  welcome  breeze  of  spring  perfuming. 
The  killing  witchery  that  lies 
In  her  soft,  black,  delicious  eyes, 
When  gathered  in  one  amorous  glance, 
Pierces  the  heart  like  sword  or  lance ; 
The  prey  that  falls  into  her  snare, 
For  life  must  mourn  and  struggle  there ; 
Her  eyelash  speaks  a  thousand  blisses, 
Her  lips  of  ruby  ask  for  kisses  ; 
Soft  lips  where  sugar-sweetness  dwells, 
Sweet  as  the  bee-hive's  honey-cells ; 
Her  cheeks,  so  beautiful  and  bright, 
Had  stole  the  moon's  refulgent  light ; 
Her  form  the  cypress  tree  expresses, 
And  full  and  ripe  invites  caresses. 
With  all  these  charms  the  heart  to  win, 
There  was  a  cureless  grief  within  — 
Yet  none  beheld  her  grief,  or  heard; 
She  drooped  like  broken-winged  bird. 
Her  secret  thoughts  her  love  concealing, 
But,  softly  to  the  terrace  stealing, 


Laili  and  Majnun.  119 

From  morn  to  eve  she  gazed  around, 
In  hopes  her  Majnun  might  be  found, 
Wandering  in  sight.     For  she  had  none 
To  sympathize  with  her  —  not  one  ! 
None  to  compassionate  her  woes  — 
In  dread  of  rivals,  friends,  and  foes  ; 
And  though  she  smiled,  her  mind's  distress 
Filled  all  her  thoughts  with  bitterness ; 
The  fire  of  absence  on  them  preyed, 
But  light  nor  smoke  that  fire  betrayed ; 
Shut  up  within  herself,  she  sate, 
Absorbed  in  grief,  disconsolate ; 
Yet  true  love  has  resources  still, 
Its  soothing  arts,  and  ever  will ! 

Voices  in  guarded  softness  rose 

Upon  her  ever  listening  ear ; 
She  heard  her  constant  lover's  woes, 

In  melting  strains,  repeated  near ; 

The  sky,  with  gloomy  clouds  o'erspread, 
At  length  soft  showers  began  to  shed ; 
And  what,  before,  destruction  seemed, 
With  rays  of  better  promise  gleamed. 

Voices  of  young  and  old  she  heard 

Beneath  the  harem-walls  reciting 
Her  Majnun's  songs;  each  thrilling  word 

Her  almost  broken  heart  delighting. 

Laili,  with  matchless  charms  of  face, 
Was  blessed  with  equal  mental  grace ; 


120  Ni{amu 

With  eloquence  and  taste  refined ; 
And  from  the  treasures  of  her  mind 
She  poured  her  fondest  love's  confession 
With  faithful  love's  most  warm  expression ; 
Told  all  her  hopes  and  sorrows  o'er, 
Though  told  a  thousand  times  before  : 
The  life-blood  circling  through  her  veins 
Recorded  her  affecting  strains ; 
And  as  she  wrote,  with  passion  flushed, 
The  glowing  words  with  crimson  blushed. 
And  now  the  terrace  she  ascends 
In  secret,  o'er  the  rampart  bends, 
And  flings  the  record,  with  a  sigh, 
To  one  that  moment  passing  by  : 
Unmarked  the  stranger  gains  the  prize, 
And  from  the  spot  like  lightning  flies 
To  where  the  lingering  lover  weeps  unseen. 
—  Starting  upon  his  feet,  with  cheerful  mien, 
He  gazes,  reads,  devours  the  pleasing  tale, 
And  joy  again  illumes  his  features  pale. 

Thus  was  resumed  the  soft  exchange  of  thought ; 
Thus  the  return  of  tenderest  feeling  wrought : 
Each  the  same  secret  intercourse  pursued, 
And  mutual  vows  more  ardently  renewed ; 
And  many  a  time  between  them  went  and  came 
The  fondest  tokens  of  their  deathless  flame ; 
Now  in  hope's  heaven,  now  in  despair's  abyss, 
And  now  enrapt  in  visionary  bliss. 


Laili  and  Majnun.  121 

VII. 

Grove  of  Palms. 

The  gloomy  veil  of  night  withdrawn, 
How  sweetly  looks  the  silvery  dawn ; 
Rich  blossoms  laugh  on  every  tree, 
Like  men  of  fortunate  destiny, 
Or  the  shining  face  of  revelry. 
The  crimson  tulip  and  golden  rose 
Their  sweets  to  all  the  world  disclose. 
I  mark  the  glittering  pearly  wave 
The  fountain's  banks  of  emerald  lave  ; 
The  birds  in  every  arbor  sing, 
The  very  raven  hails  the  spring ; 
The  partridge  and  the  ring-dove  raise 
Their  joyous  notes  in  songs  of  praise  ; 
But  bulbuls,  through  the  mountain-vale, 
Like  Majnun,  chant  a  mournful  tale. 

The  season  of  the  rose  has  led 
Laili  to  her  own  favorite  bower ; 

Her  cheeks  the  softest  vermil-red, 
Her  eyes  the  modest  sumbul  flower. 

She  has  left  her  father's  painted  hall, 
She  has  left  the  terrace  where  she  kept 

Her  secret  watch  till  evening  fall, 
And  where  she  oft  till  midnight  wept. 

A  golden  fillet  sparkling  round 
Her  brow,  her  raven  tresses  bound ; 
And  as  she  o'er  the  greensward  tripped, 


122  Ni{ami. 

A  train  of  damsels  ruby-lipped, 
Blooming  like  flowers  of  Samarcand, 
Obedient  bowed  to  her  command. 
She  glittered  like  a  moon  among 
The  beauties  of  the  starry  throng, 
With  lovely  forms  as  Houris  bright, 
Or  Peris  glancing  in  the  light ; 
And  now  they  reach  an  emerald  spot, 
Beside  a  cool  sequestered  grot, 
And  soft  recline  beneath  the  shade, 
By  a  delicious  rose-bower  made  : 
There,  in  soft  converse,  sport,  and  play, 
The  hours  unnoted  glide  away ; 
But  Laili  to  the  Bulbul  tells 
What  secret  grief  her  bosom  swells, 
And  fancies,  through  the  rustling  leaves, 
She  from  the  garden-breeze  receives 
The  breathings  of  her  own  true  love, 
Fond  as  the  cooings  of  the  dove. 

In  that  romantic  neighborhood 
A  grove  of  palms  majestic  stood  ; 
Never  in  Arab  desert  wild 
A  more  enchanting  prospect  smiled ; 
So  fragrant,  of  so  bright  a  hue, 
Not  Irem  richer  verdure  knew ; 
Nor  fountain  half  so  clear,  so  sweet, 
As  that  which  flowed  at  Laili's  feet. 

The  Grove  of  Palms  her  steps  invites ; 
She- strolls  amid  its  varied  scenes, 


Laili  and  Majnun.  123 

Its  pleasant  copses,  evergreens, 
In  which  her  wakened  heart  delights. 
Where'er  the  genial  zephyr  sighs, 
Lilies  and  roses  near  her  rise  : 
Awhile  the  prospect  charms  her  sight, 
Awhile  she  feels  her  bosom  light, 
Her  eyes  with  pleasure  beaming  bright : 
But  sadness  o'er  her  spirit  steals, 
And  thoughts,  too  deep  to  hide,  reveals : 
Beneath  a  cypress  tree  reclined, 
In  secret  thus  she  breathes  her  mind  :  — 
"  O  faithful  friend,  and  lover  true, 
Still  distant  from  thy  Laili 's  view ; 
Still  absent,  still  beyond  her  power 
To  bring  thee  to  her  fragrant  bower ; 
O  noble  youth,  still  thou  art  mine, 
And  Laili,  Laili  still  is  thine  !  " 

As  thus  she  almost  dreaming  spoke, 
A  voice  reproachful  her  attention  woke. 
"  What !    hast    thou    banished    prudence    from    thy 

mind  ? 
And  shall  success  be  given  to  one  unkind  ? 
Majnun  on  billows  of  despair  is  tossed, 
Laili  has  nothing  of  her  pleasures  lost ; 
Majnun  has  sorrow  gnawing  at  his  heart, 
Laili's  blithe  looks  far  other  thoughts  impart ; 
Majnun  the  poison-thorn  of  grief  endures, 
Laili,  all  wiles  and  softness,  still  allures ; 
Majnun  her  victim  in  a  thousand  ways, 
Laili  in  mirth  and  pastime  spends  her  days ; 


124  Ni{ami. 

Majnun's  unnumbered  wounds  his  rest  destroy, 
Laili  exists  but  in  the  bowers  of  joy; 
Majnun  is  bound  by  love's  mysterious  spell, 
Laili's  bright  cheeks  of  cheerful  feelings  tell ; 
Majnum  his  Laili's  absence  ever  mourns, 
Laili's  light  mind  to  other  objects  turns." 

At  this  reproof  tears  flowed  apace 

Down  Laili's  pale,  dejected  face; 

But  soon  to  her  glad  heart  was  known 

The  trick,  thus  practised  by  her  own 

Gay,  watchful,  ever-sportive  train, 

Who  long  had  watched,  nor  watched  in  vain ; 

And  marked  in  her  love's  voice  and  look, 

Which  never  woman's  glance  mistook. 

Her  mother  too,  with  keener  eye, 

Saw  deeper  through  the  mystery, 

Which  Laili  thought  her  story  veiled, 

And  oft  that  fatal  choice  bewailed ; 

But  Laili  still  loved  on  ;  the  root 

Sprang  up,  and  bore  both  bud  and  fruit ; 

And  she  believed  her  secret  flower 

As  safe  as  treasure  in  a  guarded  tower. 


VIII. 

Majnun's  Rival. 

That  day  on  which  she  pensive  strayed 
Amidst  the  Grove  of  Palms  —  that  day 


Laili  and  Ma j nun.  125 

How  sweetly  bloomed  the  x\rab  maid, 

Girt  by  her  train  in  fair  array  ! 
Her  moist  red  lips,  her  teeth  of  pearl, 
Her  hair  in  many  a  witching  curl ; 
Haply,  on  that  devoted  day, 
A  gallant  youth,  with  flowers  gay, 
In  splendid  fashion  passed  that  way ; 
Who  saw  that  lamp  of  beauty  gleaming, 
Her  luscious  eye  with  softness  beaming ; 
And  in  his  bosom  rose  the  fire 
Of  still-increasing  fond  desire. 
Resolved  at  once  her  hand  to  claim 
(Ibn  Salam  his  honored  name), 
He  from  her  parents  seeks  success, 

Offering  the  nuptial-knot  to  tie ; 
And,  to  promote  that  happiness, 

Scatters  his  gold  abundantly, 
As  if  it  were  but  common  earth, 
Or  sand,  or  water,  little  worth  — 
But  he  was  of  illustrious  birth. 
The  parents  scarce  believed  the  word, 
The  marriage-union  thus  preferred  ; 
And,  though  consenting,  still  they  prayed 
The  nuptial  morn  might  be  delayed  : 
In  her  no  ripened  bloom  was  seen, 
The  sweet  pomegranate  still  was  green  ; 
But  a  future  day  should  surely  deck 
With  a  bridle  yoke  her  spotless  neck  ; 
"  We  will  then'  surrender  the  maiden  to  thee, 
The  maiden,  till  now,  unaffianced  and  free  ! " 


126  Ni^ami. 

The  promise  soothes  his  eager  heart, 
He  and  his  followers,  pleased,  depart. 


IX. 

The  Battle  for  Laili. 

Majnun,  midst  wild  and  solitude, 
His  melancholy  mood  pursued  ; 
In  sterner  moments,  loud  he  raved, 
The  desert's  burning  noon-tide  braved, 
Or,  where  refreshing  shadows  fell, 
Warbled  of  her  he  loved  so  well. 

The  Arab  chief  of  that  domain 

Which  now  his  wandering  footsteps  pressed, 
Was  honored  for  his  bounteous  reign  — 

For  ever  succoring  the  distressed. 
Noufal  his  name  —  well  known  to  wield, 
Victorious  in  the  battle-field, 
His  glittering  sword,  and  overthrow 
The  robber-band  or  martial  foe ; 
Magnificent  in  pomp  and  state, 
And  wealthy  as  in  valor  great. 

One  day  the  pleasures  of  the  chase, 
The  keen  pursuit  of  bounding  deer, 

Had  brought  the  chieftain  to  that  place 
Where  Majnun  stood,  and,  drawing  near, 

The  stranger's  features  sought  to  trace, 


Laili  and  Majnun.  127 

And  the  sad  notes  of  grief  to  hear, 

Which,  ere  he  saw  the  maniac's  face, 

Had,  sorrow-laden,  struck  his  ear. 

He  now  beheld  that  wasted  frame, 

That  head  and  mien  o'ergrown  with  hair, 
That  wild,  wild  look,  which  well  might  claim 

Brotherly  kindred  with  despair, 
Dejected,  miserable,  borne 

By  grief  to  life's  last  narrow  verge, 
With  wounded  feet  and  vestment  torn, 

Singing  his  own  funereal  dirge. 

Noufal  had  traversed  forest,  copse,  and  glade, 
In  anxious  quest  of  game,  and  here  he  found 

Game  —  but  what  game  ?  —  alas  !  a  human  shade, 
So  light,  it  scarcely  seemed  to  touch  the  ground. 

Dismounting  straight,  he  hears  what  woes 
Had  marred  the  mournful  youth's  repose ; 
And  kindly  tries  with  gentle  words 
To  show  what  pleasures  life  affords  ; 
And  prove  the  uselessness,  the  folly, 
Of  nursing  grief  and  melancholy ; 
But  worse,  when  men  from  reason  flee, 
And  willing  steep  their  hearts  in  misery. 

The  sympathy  of  generous  minds 
Around  the  heart  its  influence  winds, 
And,  ever  soothing,  by  degrees, 


128  Ni^ami. 

Restores  its  long-lost  harmonies  : 
Majnun,  so  long  to  love  a  prey, 
Death  hastening  on  by  swift  decay, 
Began  to  feel  that  calming  spell, 
That  sweet  delight,  unspeakable, 
Which  draws  us  from  ourselves  away. 

A  change  now  gently  o'er  him  came ; 

With  trembling  hand  he  took  the  cup, 
And  drank,  but  drank  in  Laili's  name, 

The  life-restoring  cordial  up. 
His  spirits  rose ;  refreshing  food 

At  Noufal's  hospitable  board 
Seemed  to  remove  his  wayward  mood, 

So  long  endured,  so  long  deplored. 

And  Noufal  with  delight  surveyed 
The  social  joy  his  eyes  betrayed, 
And  heard  his  glowing  strains  of  love, 
His  murmurings  like  the  turtle-dove, 
While  thinking  of  his  Arab  maid. 
Changed  from  himself,  his  mind  at  rest, 
In  customary  robes  he  dressed ; 
A  turban  shades  his  forehead  pale, 
No  more  is  heard  the  lover's  wail, 
But,  jocund  as  the  vintner's  guest, 
He  laughs  and  drinks  with  added  zest ; 
His  dungeon  gloom  exchanged  for  day, 
His  cheeks  a  rosy  tint  display ; 
He  revels  midst  the  garden's  sweets, 


Laili  and  Majnun.  129 

And  still  his  lip  the  goblet  meets  : 

But  so  devoted,  so  unchanged  his  flame, 

Never  without  repeating  Laili's  name. 

In  friendly  converse,  heart  uniting  heart, 
Noufal  and  Majnun  hand  in  hand  are  seen ; 

And,  from  each  other  loathing  to  depart, 
Wander  untired  by  fount  and  meadow  green. 

But  what  is  friendship  to  a  soul 

Inured  to  more  intense  control? 

A  zephyr  breathing  over  flowers, 

Compared  to  when  the  tempest  lours? 

A  zephyr,  friendship's  gentler  course  ; 

A  tempest,  love's  tumultuous  force ; 

For  friendship  leaves  a  vacuum  still, 

Which  love,  and  love  alone,  can  fill : 

So  Majnun  felt ;  and  Noufal  tried, 

In  vain,  to  fill  that  aching  void  : 

For,  though  the  liquid  sparkling  red 

Still  flowed,  his  friend  thus  sorrowing  said : 

"  My  generous  host,  with  plenty  blessed, 

No  boding  cares  thy  thoughts  molest ; 

Thy  kindness  many  a  charm  hath  given, 

But  not  one  solace  under  heaven ; 

Without  my  love,  in  tears  I  languish, 

And  not  a  voice  to  check  my  anguish ; 

Like  one  of  thirst  about  to  die, 

And  every  fountain  near  him  dry  : 

Thirst  is  by  water  quenched,  not  treasure, 

Nor  floods  of  wine,  nor  festive  pleasure. 


130  Ni{ami. 

Bring  me  the  cure  my  wounds  require ; 
Quench  in  my  heart  this  raging  fire ; 
My  Laili,  oh  !  my  Laili  give, 
Or  thy  poor  friend  must  cease  to  live !  " 
Majnun  had  scarce  his  wish  expressed 
Ere  rose  in  generous  Noufal's  breast 
The  firm  resolve  to  serve  his  friend, 
And  to  his  settled  purpose  bend 
Laili's  stern  father : 

Now,  in  arms  arrayed, 
And  lifting  high  his  keen  Damascus  blade, 
He  calls  a  band  of  veterans  to  his  aid. 
Swift  as  the  feathered  race  the  assembled  train 
Rush,  sword  in  hand,  along  the  desert  plain ; 
And  when  the  chieftain's  habitation  bright 
Upon  the  blue  horizon  strikes  the  sight, 
He  sends  a  messenger  to  claim  the  bride, 
In  terms  imperious,  not  to  be  denied ; 
Yet  was  that  claim  derided.     "  Thou  wilt  soon 
Repent  this  folly  :  Laili  is  the  moon ; 
And  who  presumes  the  splendid  moon  to  gain? 
Is  there  on  earth  a  man  so  mad,  so  vain? 
Who  draw  their  swords  at  such  a  hazard?     None. 
Who  strikes  his  crystal  vase  upon  a  stone  ?  " 
Noufal  again  endeavors  to  inspire 
With  dread  of  vengeance  Laili's  haughty  sire ; 
But  useless  are  the  threats  —  the  same  reply  — 
"Alike  thy  power  and  vengeance  I  defy  !  " 
The  parley  over,  Noufal  draws  his  sword, 
And  with  his  horsemen  pours  upon  the  horde, 


Laili  and  Mapiun.  131 

Ready  for  battle.     Spears  and  helmets  ring, 

And   brass-bound  shields;    loud  twangs  the  archer's 

string ; 
The  field  of  conflict  like  the  ocean  roars, 
When  the  huge  billows  burst  upon  the  shores. 
Arrows,  like  birds,  on  either  foe  man  stood, 
Drinking  with  open  beak  the  vital  flood ; 
The  shining  daggers  in  the  battle's  heat 
Rolled  many  a  head  beneath  the  horses'  feet ; 
And  lightnings,  hurled  by  death's  unsparing  hand, 
Spread  consternation  through  the  weeping  land. 
Amidst  the  horrors  of  that  fatal  fight, 
Majnun  appeared  —  a  strange  appalling  sight ! 
Wildly  he  raved,  confounding  friend  and  foe, 
His  garments  half  abandoned  in  his  woe, 
And  with  a  maniac  stare  reproachful  cried  — 
"Why  combat  thus  when  all  are  on  my  side?  " 
The  foeman  laughed —  the  uproar  louder  grew  — 
No  pause  the  brazen  drums  or  trumpets  knew ; 
The  stoutest  heart  sank  at  the  carnage  wrought ; 
Swords    blushed    to    see    the    numerous    heads    they 

smote. 
—  Noufal  with  dragon-fierceness  prowled  around, 
And  hurled  opposing  warriors  to  the  ground  : 
Whatever  hero  felt  his  ponderous  gerz l 
Was  crushed,  tho'  steadfast  as  the  Mount  Elberz ; 


1  Gerz,  a  mace  or  club.  Elberz  is  a  celebrated  mountain  in 
Persia,  and  forms  a  favorite  simile  in  the  Shah-Nam  eh  of  Firdausi, 
The  immovable  firmness  of  his  heroes  is  generally  compared  to  the 
Mount  Elberz. 


132  Ni^ami. 

Upon  whatever  head  his  weapon  fell, 

There  was  but  one  heartrending  tale  to  tell. 

Like  a  mad  elephant  the  foe  he  met ; 

With  hostile  blood  his  blade  continued  wet ; 

—  Wearied  at  length,  both  tribes  at  once  withdrew, 

Resolved  with  morn  the  combat  to  renew ; 

But  NoufaPs  gallant  friends  had  suffered  most ; 

In  one  hour  more  the  battle  had  been  lost ; 

And  thence  assistance,  ere  the  following  dawn, 

From  other  warlike  tribes  was  promptly  drawn. 

The  desert  rang  again.     In  front  and  rear 
Glittered  bright  sword  and  buckler,  gerz  and  spear ; 
Again  the  struggle  woke  the  echoes  round, 
Swords    clashed,    and    blood    again    made    red    the 

ground ; 
The  book  of  life,  with  dust  and  carnage  stained, 
Was  soon  destroyed,  and  not  a  leaf  remained. 
At  last,  the  tribe  of  Laili's  sire  gave  way, 
And  Noufal  won  the  hard-contested  day ; 
Numbers  lay  bleeding  of  that  conquered  band, 
And  died  unsuccored  on  the  burning  sand. 

And  now  the  elders  of  that  tribe  appear, 
Imploring  the  proud  victor.     "  Chieftain,  hear  ! 
The  work  of  slaughter  is  complete  ; 

Thou  seest  our  power  destroyed ;  allow 
Us,  wretched  suppliants,  at  thy  feet, 

Humbly  to  ask  for  mercy  now. 
How  many  warriors  press  the  plain, 
Khanjer  and  spear  have  laid  them  low  j 


Laili  and  Ma j nun.  133 

At  peace,  behold  our  kinsmen  slain, 

And  thou  art  now  without  a  foe.  " 

"  Then  pardon  what  of  wrong  has  been : 
Let  us  retire,  unharmed  —  unstayed  — 

Far  from  this  sanguinary  scene, 

And  take  thy  prize  —  the  Arab  Maid." 

Then  came  the  father,  full  of  grief,  and  said  — 
(Ashes  and  dust  upon  his  hoary  head,) 
"  With  thee,  alas  !  how  useless  to  contend  ! 
Thou  art  the  conqueror,  and  to  thee  I  bend. 
Without  resentment  now  the  vanquished  view, 
Wounded  and  old,  and  broken-hearted  too ; 
Reproach  has  fallen  upon  me,  and  has  dared 
To  call  me  Persian  —  that  I  disregard  ; 
For  I'm  an  Arab  still,  and  scorn  the  sneer 
Of  braggart  fools,  unused  to  shield  and  spear. 
But  let  that  pass.     I  now,  o'ercome,  and  weak, 
And  prostrate,  pardon  from  the  victor  seek  : 
Thy  slave  am  I,  obedient  to  thy  will, 
Ready  thy  sternest  purpose  to  fulfil ; 
But  if  with  Laili  I  consent  to  part, 
Wilt  thou  blot  out  all  vengeance  from  thy  heart? 
Then  speak  at  once,  and  thy  behest  declare  : 
I  will  not  flinch,  though  it  my  soul  may  tear. 
My  daughter  shall  be  brought  at  thy  command  ; 
Let  the  red  flames  ascend  from  blazing  brand, 
Waiting  their  victim,  crackling  in  the  air, 
And  Laili  duteously  shall  perish  there. 


134  Ni{ami. 

Or,  if  thou'dst  rather  see  the  maiden  bleed, 

This  thirsty  sword  shall  do  the  dreadful  deed ; 

Dissever  at  one  blow  that  lovely  head, 

Her  sinless  blood  by  her  own  father  shed  ! 

In  all  things  thou  shalt  find  me  faithful,  true, 

Thy  slave  obsequious,  —  what  wouldst  have  me  do  ? 

But  mark  me ;  I  am  not  to  be  beguiled  ; 

I  will  not  to  a  demon  give  my  child ; 

I  will  not  to  a  madman's  wild  embrace 

Consign  the  pride  and  honor  of  my  race, 

And  wed  her  to  contempt  and  foul  disgrace. 

I  will  not  sacrifice  my  tribe's  fair  fame, 

Nor  taint  with  obloquy  her  virtuous  name. 

Has  honor  on  an  Arab  heart  no  claim  ? 

Better  be  overwhelmed  by  adverse  fate 

Than  yield  up  honor,  e'en  for  kingly  state. 

Through  all  Arabia  is  her  virtue  known ; 

Her  beauty  matched  by  heavenly  charms  alone. 

I'd  rather  in  a  monster  be  enshrined 

Than  bear  a  name  detested  by  mankind. 

What  !  wed  a  wretch,  and  earn  my  country's  ban? 

A  dog  were  better  than  a  demon-man. 

A  dog's  bite  heals,  but  human  gnawings  never ; 

The  festering  poison-wounds  remain  forever." 

Thus  spake  the  father,  and  in  NoufaFs  breast 
Excited  feelings  not  to  be  repressed  : 
"  I  hoped  to  win  consent,"  he  said  — 
"  But  now  that  anxious  hope  is  dead, 
And  thou  and  thine  may  quit  the  field, 


Laili  and  Majnun.  135 

Still  armed  with  khanjer,  sword,  and  shield ; 
Horseman  and  elder.     Thus  in  vain 
Blood  has  bedewed  this  thirsty  plain." 

When  Majnun  this  conclusion  hears, 
He  flies  incensed  to  Noufal,  and  with  tears 
Wildly  exclaims  :    "  The  dawn,  my  generous  friend  ! 
Promised  this  day  in  happiness  would  end  ; 
But  thou  hast  let  the  gazelle  slip  away, 
And  me  defrauded  of  my  beauteous  prey. 
Near  where  Forat's *  bright  stream  rolls  on,  reclined, 
Stanching    my   wounds,  hope   soothed   my   tortured 

mind, 
And  gave  me  Laili ;  now  that  hope  is  crossed, 
And  life's  most  valued  charm  forever  lost." 

Noufal  with  heavy  heart  now  homeward  bent 
His  way,  and  Majnun  with  him  sorrowing  went ; 
And  there  again  the  pitying  chieftain  strove 
To  calm  the  withering  pangs  of  hopeless  love ; 
To  bless,  with  gentleness  and  tender  care, 
The  wounded  spirit  sinking  in  despair : 
But  vain  his  efforts  ;  mountain,  wood,  and  plain 
Soon  heard  the  maniac's  piercing  woes  again ; 
Escaped  from  listening  ear,  and  watchful  eye, 
Lonely  again  in  desert  wild  to  lie. 

1  The  river  Euphrates.    The  scene  is  laid  in  the  country  surround- 
ing Bagdad. 


136  Ni{ami. 


x. 

Majnun  saves  a  Deer. 

The  minstrel  strikes  his  soft  guitar, 

With  sad  forebodings  pale  ; 
And  fills  with  song  the  balmy  air, 

And  thus  resumes  his  tale  :  — 

The  pensive  bird,  compelled  to  cower, 
From  day  to  day  in  Noufal's  bower, 
Tired  of  the  scene,  with  pinions  light, 
Swift  as  the  wind  has  urged  its  flight, 
And,  far  from  Noufal's  wide  domain, 
Enjoys  its  liberty  again ; 
Pouring  aloud  its  sad  complaint 
In  wildest  mood  without  restraint. 

And  now  remote  from  peopled  town, 
Midst  tangled  forest,  parched  and  brown, 
The  maniac  roams  ;  with  double  speed 
He  goads  along  his  snorting  steed, 
Till,  in  a  grove,  a  sportsman's  snare 
Attracts  his  view,  and,  struggling  there, 
Its  knotted  meshes  fast  between, 
Some  newly  prisoned  deer  are  seen  ; 
And  as  the  sportsman  forward  springs 
To  seize  on  one,  and  promptly  brings 
The  fatal  knife  upon  its  neck, 
His  hand  receives  a  sudden  check ; 


Laili  and  Ma j nun.  137 

And  looking  upward,  with  surprise 

(A  mounted  chief  before  his  eyes  !), 

He  stops  —  while  thus  exclaims  the  youth  : 

"  If  e'er  thy  bosom  throbbed  with  ruth, 

Forbear  !  for  'tis  a  crime  to  spill 

A  gazelle's  blood  — it  bodeth  ill ; 

Then  set  the  pleading  captive  free ; 

For  sweet  is  life  and  liberty. 

That  heart  must  be  as  marble  hard, 

And  merciless  as  wolf  or  pard, 

Which  clouds  in  death  that  large  black  eye, 

Beaming  like  Laili's,  lovingly. 

The  cruel  stroke,  my  friend,  withhold ; 

Its  neck  deserves  a  string  of  gold. 

Observe  its  slender  limbs,  the  grace 

And  winning  meekness  of  its  face. 

The  musk-pod  is  its  fatal  dower, 

Like  beauty,  still  the  prey  of  power  ; 

And  for  that  fragrant  gift  thou'rt  led 

The  gentle  gazelle's  blood  to  shed  ! 

Oh,  seek  not  gain  by  cruel  deed, 

Nor  let  the  innocent  victim  bleed." 

"But,"  cried  the  sportsman,  "  these  are  mine ; 

I  cannot  at  my  task  repine  : 

The  sportsman's  task  ;  'tis  free  from  blame, 

To  watch  and  snare  the  forest  game." 

Majnun,  upon  this  stern  reply, 

Alighted  from  his  steed,  and  said  — 
"  Oh,  let  them  live  !  they  must  not  die. 


138  Ni^ami. 

Forbear  !  and  take  this  barb  instead." 
The  sportsman  seized  it  eagerly, 

And,  laughing,  from  the  greenwood  sped. 

Majnun,  delighted,  viewed  his  purchased  prize, 
And  in  the  gazelle's  sees  his  Laili's  eyes ; 
But  soon,  freed  from  the  snare,  with  nimble  feet 
The  tremblers  bound  to  some  more  safe  retreat. 
The  simple  maniac  starts,  and  finds,  amazed, 
The  vision  vanished  which  his  fancy  raised. 

'Tis  night  —  and  darkness,  black  as  Laili's  tresses, 

Veils  all  around,  and  all  his  soul  oppresses ; 

No  lucid  moon  like  Laili's  face  appears ; 

No  glimpse  of  light  the  gloomy  prospect  cheers  : 

In  a  rude  cavern  he  despairing  lies, 

The  tedious  moments  only  marked  with  sighs. 


XI. 

Laili  marries  Ibn  Salam. 

Behold,  what  clouds  of  dust  emerge 
From  the  lone  desert's  distant  verge  ! 
And,  high  in  dusky  eddies  driven, 
Obscure  the  azure  hue  of  heaven  : 
And  now  the  tramp  of  steeds  is  heard, 
And  now  the  leader's  angry  word  — 
Now  nearer,  more  distinct  they  grow  — 
Who  is  that  leader? —  friend  or  foe? 


Laili  and  Majnun.  139 

Alas  !  'tis  Laili's  vanquished  sire, 
Returning  home,  his  heart  on  fire ; 
For  though  he  has  survived  the  blow, 
He  keenly  feels  his  overthrow. 

His  tale  is  told  :  some  Diw *  or  Ghoul 
Has  palsied  his  intrepid  soul, 
And  held  his  arm  by  magic  foul, 
Or  potion  from  the  enchanter's  bowl ; 
Else  had  he  driven,  with  easy  hand, 
The  miscreant  Noufal  from  the  land ; 
For  when  did  ever  braggart  lord 
Fail,  but  when  magic  held  his  sword? 

Now,  shielded  by  the  harem  screen, 
The  sweet  Narcissus  sad  is  seen  : 
Listening  she  hears,  disconsolate, 
Her  father's  words,  which  seal  her  fate ; 
And  what  has  Laili  now  to  bear, 
But  loneliness,  reproach,  despair, 
With  no  congenial  spirit  to  impart 
One  single  solace  to  her  bursting  heart ! 

Meanwhile  the  spicy  gale  on  every  side 
Wafts  the  high  vaunting  of  her  beauty's  pride 
Through   all   the   neighboring  tribes,    and   more 
remote 

1  "  Div  —  demon,  giant,  devil,  ghost,  hobgoblin.  The  divs, 
genii,  or  giants,  in  Eastern  mythology,  are  a  race  of  malignant 
beings.  The  ghoul  is  an  imaginary  sylvan  demon,  of  different 
shapes  and  colors,  supposed  to  devour  men  and  animals.  Any- 
thing which  suddenly  attacks  and  destroys  a  man,  or  robs  him 
of  his  senses."  — Richardson. 


140  Ni{ami. 

Her  name  is  whispered  and  her  favor  sought. 

Suitors  with  various  claims  appear  —  the  great, 

The  rich,  the  powerful  —  all  impatient  wait 

To  know  for  whom  the  father  keeps  that  rare 

But  fragile  crystal  with  such  watchful  care. 

Her  charms  eclipse  all  others  of  her  sex, 

Given  to  be  loved,  but  rival  hearts  to  vex ; 

For  when  the  lamp  of  joy  illumes  her  cheeks, 

The  lover  smiles,  and  yet  his  heart  it  breaks  : 

The  full-blown  rose  thus  sheds  its  fragrance  round ; 

But  there  are  thorns,  not  given  to  charm,  but  wound. 

Among  the  rest  that  stripling  came, 

Who  had  before  avowed  his  flame ; 

His  cheerful  aspect  seemed  to  say, 

For  him  was  fixed  the  nuptial-day. 

His  offerings  are  magnificent ; 

Garments  embroidered  every  fold, 
And  rarest  gems,  to  win  consent, 

And  carpets  worked  with  silk  and  gold  : 
Amber,  and  pearls,  and  rubies  bright, 
And  bags  of  musk,  attract  the  sight ; 
And  camels  of  unequalled  speed, 
And  ambling  nags  of  purest  breed  ;  — 
These  (resting  for  a  while)  he  sends 
Before  him,  and  instructs  his  friends, 
With  all  the  eloquence  and  power 
Persuasion  brings  in  favoring  hour, 
To  magnify  his  worth,  and  prove 
That  he  alone  deserves  her  love.  — 


Laili  and  Majnun.  141 

"  A  youth  of  royal  presence,  Yemen's  boast, 
Fierce  as  a  lion,  mighty  as  a  host ; 
Of  boundless  wealth,  and  valor's  self,  he  wields 
His  conquering  sword  amid  embattled  fields. 
Call  ye  for  blood  ?  'tis  shed  by  his  own  hand. 
Call  ye  for  gold?  he  scatters  it  like  sand." 

And  when  the  flowers  of  speech  their  scent  had  shed, 

Diffusing  honors  round  the  suitor's  head ; 

Exalting  him  to  more  than  mortal  worth, 

In  person  manly,  noble  in  his  birth ; 

The  sire  of  Laili  seemed  oppressed  with  thought, 

As  if  with  some  repulsive  feeling  fraught ; 

Yet  promptly  was  the  answer  given  —  he  soon 

Decreed  the  fate  of  Yemen's  splendid  moon ; 

Saddled  the  steed  of  his  desire,  in  sooth, 

Flung  his  own  offspring  in  the  dragon's  mouth. 

Forthwith  the  nuptial  pomp,  the  nuptial  rites, 

Engage  the  chieftain's  household  —  every  square 
Rings  with  the  rattling  drums  whose  noise  excites 
More  deafening  clamor  through  the  wide  bazaar. 
The  pipe  and  cymbal,  shrill  and  loud, 
Delight  the  gay  assembled  crowd ; 
And  all  is  mirth  and  jollity, 
With  song,  and  dance,  and  revelry. 
But  Laili  mournful  sits  apart, 
The  shaft  of  misery  through  her  heart  ; 
And  black  portentous  clouds  are  seen 
Darkening  her  soft  expressive  mien  ; 
Her  bosom  swells  with  heavy  sighs, 


142  Ni{ami. 

Tears  gush  from  those  heart-winning  eyes, 

Where  Love's  triumphant  witchery  lies. 

In  blooming  spring  a  withered  leaf, 

She  droops  in  agony  of  grief; 

Loving  her  own  —  her  only  one  — 

Loving  Majnun,  and  him  alone ; 

All  else  from  her  affections  gone ; 

And  to  be  joined,  in  a  moment's  breath, 

To  another  !  —  Death,  and  worse  than  death  ! 

Soon  as  the  sparkling  stars  of  night 

Had  disappeared,  and  floods  of  light 

Shed  from  the  morn's  refulgent  beam 

Empurpled  Dijla's1  rolling  stream, 

The  bridegroom,  joyous,  rose  to  see 

The  bride  equipped  as  bride  should  be : 

The  litter  and  the  golden  throne, 

Prepared  for  her  to  rest  upon  : 

But  what  avails  the  tenderest  care, 

The  fondest  love,  when  dark  despair 

And  utter  hatred  fill  the  breast 

Of  her  to  whom  that  fondness  is  addressed  ? 

Quickly  her  sharp  disdain  the  bridegroom  feels,2 

And  from  her  scornful  presence  shrinks  and  reels : 

A  solemn  oath  she  takes,  and  cries, 

With  frenzy  flashing  from  her  eyes,  — 

1  The  river  Tigris. 

2  The  original  makes  Laili  rather  Amazonian  at  this  juncture, 
which  is  not  quite  in  keeping  with  the  gentleness  of  her  character. 
It  says  she  struck  him  such  a  blow,  that  he  fell  down  as  if  he  were 
dead. 


Laili  and  Majnun.  143 

"  Hopest  thou  I  ever  shall  be  thine? 
It  is  my  father's  will,  not  mine  ! 
Rather  than  be  that  thing  abhorred, 
My  life-blood  shall  distain  thy  sword. 
Away  !  nor  longer  seek  to  gain 
A  heart  foredoomed  to  endless  pain; 
A  heart,  no  power  of  thine  can  move ; 
A  bleeding  heart,  which  scorns  thy  love  ! " 

When  Ibn  Salam  her  frenzied  look  beheld, 
And  heard  her  vows,  his  cherished  hopes  were  quelled. 
He  soon  perceived  what  art  had  been  employed, — 
All  his  bright  visions  faded  and  destroyed ;  — 
And  found,  when  love  has  turned  a  maiden's  brain, 
Father  and  mother  urge  their  power  in  vain. 

XII. 

Majnun  hears  of  the  Wedding. 

The  Arab  poets  who  rehearse 
Their  legends  in  immortal  verse, 
Say,  when  Majnun  these  tidings  knew, 
More  wild,  more  moody  wild,  he  grew ; 
Raving  through  wood  and  mountain  glen ; 
Flying  still  more  the  haunts  of  men. 

Sudden  a  perfume,  grateful  to  the  soul, 

O'er  his  awakened  senses  stole. 

He  thought  from  Laili's  fragrant  couch  it  came, 

It  filled  with  joy  his  wearied  frame. 


144  Ni^ami. 

Ecstatic  with  the  unexpected  pleasure, 
The  fond  memorial  of  his  dearest  treasure, 
He  sank  upon  the  ground,  beneath  the  shade 
Of  a  broad  palm,  in  senseless  torpor  laid. 

A  stranger,  quickly  passing  by, 
Observed  the  love-lorn  wanderer  lie 
Sleeping,  or  dead,  and  checked  his  camel's  pace 
To  mark  the  features  of  his  face. 
Loud  roaring,  like  a  demon,  he  awoke 
The  maniac  from  his  trance,  and  gayly  spoke  : 
"  Up,  up,  thou  sluggard  !  up  and  see, 
What  thy  heart's-ease  has  done  for  thee  ! 
Better  drive  feeling  from  thy  mind, 
Since  there's  no  faith  in  womankind : 
Better  be  idle,  than  employed 
In  fruitless  toil ;  better  avoid 
A  mistress,  though  of  form  divine, 
If  she  be  fair  and  false  as  thine  ! 
They've  given  her  charms  to  one  as  young — ■ 
The  bride-veil  o'er  her  brow  is  flung  : 
Close,  side  by  side,1  from  morn  till  night, 
Kissing  and  dalliance  their  delight ; 
Whilst  thou,  from  human  solace  flying, 
With  unrequited  love  art  dying. 
—  Distant  from  her  adorer's  view, 
One  in  a  thousand  may  be  true  : 
The  pen  which  writes,  as  if  it  knew 
A  woman's  promise,  splits  in  two. 

1  Literally,  Every  day,  ear  in  ear. 


Laili  and  Majnun.  145 

While  in  another's  warm  embrace, 
No  witness  to  thy  own  disgrace, 
Faithless,  she  wastes  no  thought  on  thee, 
Wrapped  in  her  own  felicity. 
Woman's  desire  is  more  intense 
Than  man's  —  more  exquisite  her  sense ; 
But,  never  blinded  by  her  flame, 
Gain  and  fruition  are  her  aim. 
A  woman's  love  is  selfish  all ; 
Possessions,  wealth,  secure  her  fall. 
How  many  false  and  cruel  prove, 
And  not  one  faithful  in  her  love  ! 
A  contradiction  is  her  life  ; 
Without,  all  peace  ;  within,  all  strife ; 
A  dangerous  friend,  a  fatal  foe, 
Prime  breeder  1  of  a  world  of  woe. 
When  we  are  joyous,  she  is  sad ; 
When  deep  in  sorrow,  she  is  glad. 
Such  is  the  life  a  woman  leads, 
And  in  her  sorcery  still  succeeds." 

These  words  confused  the  lover's  brain ; 

Fire  ran  through  every  swelling  vein  : 

Frantic  he  dashed  his  forehead  on  the  ground, 

1  Afati-jehan,  the  calamity  of  the  world.  A  common  epithet 
applied  in  anger  to  the  fair  sex.  Something  in  the  spirit  of 
Otway :  — 

"  Who  lost  Marc  Antony  the  world  ?  a  woman. 
Who  was  the  cause  of  a  long  ten-years'  war, 
And  laid  at  last  old  Troy  in  ashes  ?  woman, 
Destructive,  damnable,  deceitful  woman  !  " 


146  Miami. 

And  blood  flowed  trickling  from  the  ghastly  wound, 
"What  added  curse  is  this?"  he  groaning  said, — 
"  Another  tempest,  roaring  round  my  head  !  " 

When  ever  did  a  bleeding  heart 

Betray  no  sign  of  blighted  reason? 
Can  the  most  skilful  gardener's  art 

Still  keep  his  flowers  or  fruit  in  season? 
No ;  hearts  dissolved  in  grief  give  birth 
To  madness,  as  the  teeming  earth 
Yields  herbs  ;  and  yet  bewildered  mind, 
To  all  but  one  bright  object  blind, 
Suffers  no  censure  from  the  seer 
Who  guides  the  faithful  Moslem  here. 
Love  sanctifies  the  erring  thought, 
And  Heaven  forgives  the  deed  by  frenzy  wrought. 
"  A  rose,  a  lovely  rose,  I  found, 
With  thorns  and  briers  compassed  round ; 
And,  struggling  to  possess  that  prize, 
The  gardener  in  his  wrath  denies, 
Behold  my  heart,  all  torn  and  bleeding, 
Its  pangs  all  other  pangs  exceeding  : 
I  see  the  leaves  expand  and  bloom, 
I  smell  its  exquisite  perfume ; 
Its  color,  blushing  in  the  light, 
Gives  to  my  raptured  soul  delight : 
I  weep  beneath  the  cypress  tree, 
And  still  the  rose  is  not  for  me. 
Alas  !  none  hear,  nor  mark  my  moan ; 
Pride  of  my  soul,  my  rose,  is  gone  ! 


Laili  ami  Majuun.  147 

Another  has,  in  open  day, 

Borne  the  heart-winning  prize  away. 

Though  wrapped  in  sweetest  innocence, 

The  fell  oppressor  snatched  her  thence. 

But  who  deserves  the  curse  that's  sped 

Upon  the  foul  betrayer's  head? 

The  gardener,  in  his  lust  for  gold, 

That  rose  —  the  boast  of  Irem  —  sold. 

Poor  wretch  !  if  worlds  of  wealth  were  mine, 

Full  willingly  I'd  make  them  thine ; 

But  not  a  dirhem  for  that  rose, 

The  fatal  cause  of  all  my  woes. 

I  would  not  play  a  villain's  part, 

And  buy  with  gold  a  woman's  heart ; 

'Tis  not  in  gold  to  purchase  love, 

Above  all  wealth,  all  price  above ; 

For  I  would  rather  die  than  see 

A  smile  on  lips  that  are  not  free. 

Give  me  the  boundless  swell  of  bliss, 

The  heart  upspringing  to  the  kiss, 

When  life,  and  soul,  and  breath  combine 

To  tell  me,  she  is  only  mine ; 

The  flood  of  joy  o'erwhelming  quite 

My  glowing  senses  with  delight. 

—  Base  wretch  !  and  thou  that  rose  hast  sold : 

A  demon's  curse  upon  thy  gold  !  " 

The  traveller  witnessed  with  surprise 

How  he  the  maniac's  heart  had  wrung  — 
What  remedy  could  he  devise  ? 


148  Ni^ami. 

He  from  his  camel  sprung ; 
And  when  the  sufferer  seemed  to  be  restored, 
Forgiveness  anxiously  implored  : 
"  'Twas  wrong,  and  I  deserve  the  blame ; 
I  marked  with  infamy  her  name  : 
My  fault  is  of  the  darkest  hue,  — 
My  crime  —  for  Laili  still  is  true  ! 
What  though  in  nuptial  band  united, 
Her  faith,  to  thee  so  often  plighted, 
Spotless  remains,  still  firm,  unbroken, 
As  proved  by  many  a  mournful  token. 
For  every  moment's  space  can  claim 
A  thousand  recollections  of  thy  name  : 
Thus  ever  present  to  her  memory, 
She  lives,  and  only  lives  for  thee. 
One  year  has  passed  since  she  was  made  a  bride ; 
But  what  of  years?  whatever  may  betide, 
Were  it  a  thousand,  still  her  heart's  the  same, 
Unchanged,     unchangeable,  her     earliest    cherished 

flame." 

Now  Majnun,  desolate,  his  fate  perceived, 

As  in  a  glass,  the  misery  of  his  lot, 
And,  from  the  first  impression  scarce  relieved, 

Felt  his  abandonment,  and  only  not  forgot. 

Wasted  and  wan,  he  fluttered  where  he  lay ; 

And,  turning  to  that  magic  point  which  led 
To  where  his  angel-face  was  wont  to  stay, 

Thus,  in  a  melancholy  tone,  he  said  :  — 


Laili  and  Majnun.  149 

"  Alas  !  my  passion  glowed  in  every  part ; 
Thine  in  thy  tongue,  but  never  in  thy  heart ; 
With  thy  new  love  hast  thou  so  amorous  grown  ? 
And  am  I  worthless  as  a  desert-stone  ? 
What  is  a  word,  a  promise,  oath,  or  pledge  ? 
Mockery,  which  never  can  the  heart  engage. 
What  was  my  garden's  wealth  but  fruit  and  flowers? 
And  all  that  wealth  a  raven  now  devours ; 
And  what  has  been  my  constant  care  and  toil, 
But  for  another  to  prepare  the  spoil? 
When  first  my  soul  was  destined  to  be  thine, 
I  little  thought  that  treasure  to  resign ; 
Think  of  thy  broken  vows,  to  what  they  tend  ; 
Think  of  thy  falsehood,  and  lament  its  end. 
My  doom  is  fixed ;  my  choice  no  longer  free ; 
My  martyr-life  devoted  still  to  thee  !  " 


XIII. 

Majnun's  Father  Dies. 

Meantime,  the  father  mourned  his  wretched  state, 
Like  Jacob  o'er  his  Joseph's  unknown  fate ; 
No  rest  by  day,  no  sleep  by  night ; 
Grief  o'er  him  shed  its  withering  blight ; 
Incessant  yearnings  wrung  his  heart, 

He  sat  in  darkness,  silent,  lone : 
"Why  did  my  child  from  home  depart? 

Where  has  the  hopeless  wanderer  gone?" 
Dreading  that  Death's  relentless  dart 


1 50  Ni^ami. 

His  best-loved  had  overthrown. 

Sudden  he  rose  —  despair  gave  force 
And  vigor  to  his  aged  frame ; 

And,  almost  frantic  with  remorse, 
Gathering  upon  himself  the  blame, 

He  trod  the  maze  of  wood  and  wild, 

Seeking  his  poor  forsaken  child  ; 

And  when  the  day  withdrew  its  light, 

He  passed  in  cavern  rude  the  night ; 

But  never  ceased  his  venturous  quest  — 

No  peace  for  him  —  no  strengthening  rest. 

In  vain  he  paced  the  desert  round, 

For  not  a  trace  of  him  was  found. 

At  length  a  herdsman,  falling  in  his  way, 

Described  the  spot  where  Majnun  lay ; 

Craggy,  and  deep,  and  terrible  to  view, 

It  seemed  a  grave  all  damp  with  noxious  dew. 

Thither  proceeding,  by  the  stranger  led, 

He  finds  with  horror  that  sepulchral  bed ; 

And,  fearful  of  the  worst,  beholds  the  wreck 
Of  Majnun,  his  once-lovely  boy ;  — 

He  sees  a  serpent  winding  round  his  neck, 
Playful,  not  destined  to  destroy : 
It  stays  but  for  a  moment  —  all  around, 
Limbs  half-devoured,  and  bones,  bestrew  the  ground. 
With  cautious  step  descending,  he  surveys 
Th'  unconscious  youth,  who  meets  his  anxious  gaze 
With  a  wild  look  which  could  not  recognize 

The  tottering  form  before  him  :  "  Who  art  thou  ? 
And  what  thy  errand?"     The  old  man  replies  :  — 


Laili  and  Majnnn.  151 

"  I  am  thy  father  !     I  have  found  thee  now, 
After  long  search?"     Embracing,  both  remained 
In  deep  compassionate  sorrow,  fondly  strained 
Each  to  the  other's  bosom ;  and  when  he, 
The  maniac,  had  regained  his  memory, 
And  beams  of  light  burst  through  his  'nighted  brain, 
And  he  beheld  and  knew  his  sire  again, 
Joy  sparkled  in  his  faded  eye  awhile, 
And  his  parched  lips  seemed  curled  into  a  smile. 
The  poor  old  father  said,  with  feeble  voice, 
"  Thou  makest  my  heart  both  tremble  and  rejoice  : 
The  path  o'er  which  thy  feet  are  doomed  to  pass 
Show  blades  of  swords,  not  harmless  blades  of  grass ; 
And  I  would  warn  thee  never  more  to  roam ; 
Thy  only  safety  is  to  stay  at  home. 
Dogs  have  a  home,  and  thou  hast  none  to  boast : 
Art  thou  a  man,  to  human  comfort  lost? 
If  man  thou  art,  then  like  a  man  appear, 
Or,  if  a  demon,  be  a  demon  here. 
The  ghoul,  created  to  perplex  the  earth, 
Is  still  a  ghoul,  and  answers  to  its  birth ; 
But  thou'rt  a  man ;  and  why,  with  human  soul, 
Forget  thy  nature  and  become  a  ghoul? 
To-day  if  thou  shouldst  throw  the  reins  aside, 
To-morrow  thou  mayst  ask,  and  be  denied. 
Soon  shall  I  pass  away,  and  be  at  rest ; 
No  longer  this  frail  world's  unhappy  guest. 
My  day  is  mingling  with  the  shades  of  night ; 
My  life  is  losing  all  its  wonted  light. 
Soul  of  thy  father  !  reinspired  with  grace, 


152  Ni^ami. 

Rise,  and  protect  the  honors  of  thy  race, 
That,  ere  this  frame  be  in  the  grave  laid  low, 
I  may  the  guardian  of  my  birthright  know  ; 
That,  ere  I  die,  to  soothe  a  parent's  grief, 
Thou  mayst  be  hailed  in  thine  own  home  the  chief. 
Forbid  it,  Heaven,  that,  when  my  hour  is  past, 
My  house  and  home  should  to  the  winds  be  cast ! 
That  plundering  strangers,  with  rapacious  hand, 
Should  waste  my  treasure  and  despoil  my  land  ! 
And  Heaven  forbid,  that  both  at  once  should  fall, 
(My  greatest  dread),  and  thus  extinguish  all ! 
That  when  the  summons  reaches  me  to  die, 
Thy  death  should  also  swell  the  funeral  cry  ! " 

These   words  sank   deep   in  Maj nun's    breast :    he 
seemed 
Altered  in  mood,  as  through  his  senses  streamed 
The  memory  of  his  home,  the  fond  regard 
Of  his  dear  mother,  and  the  joys  he  shared 
From  her  affection.     Days  and  nights  he  tried 
To  banish  from  his  thoughts  another's  bride  : 
Repentance  came,  and  oft  the  strife  renewed, 
But  tyrant  love  that  feeling  soon  subdued ; 
(Love,  a  wild  elephant  in  might,  which  grows 
More  powerful  when  opposed  by  friends  or  foes;) 
And  the  poor  maniac  thus  his  sire  addressed : 
"  Thy  counsel,  father,  is  the  wisest,  best ; 
And  I  would  gladly  to  thy  wish  conform  : 
But  what  am  I  ?  a  helpless  wretch,  a  worm, 
Without  the  power  to  do  what  I  approve, 
Enslaved,  the  victim  of  almighty  love. 


Laili  and  Majnun.  153 

To  me  the  world  is  swallowed  up  —  I  see 

Nothing  but  Laili  —  all  is  lost  to  me, 

Save  her  bright  image  —  father,  mother,  home, 

All  buried  in  impenetrable  gloom, 

Beyond  my  feeling  ;  —  yet  I  know  thou'rt  here, 

And  I  could  weep  ;  —  but  what  avails  the  tear, 

Even  were  it  at  a  father's  funeral  shed  ? 

For  human  sorrows  never  reach  the  dead. 

Thou  say'st  the  night  of  Death  is  on  thee  falling  ! 

Then  must  I  weep,  thy  fostering  care  recalling ; 

But'  I  shall  die  in  utter  misery, 

And  none  be  left  in  life  to  weep  for  me." 

Syd  Omri,  with  unutterable  grief, 
Gazed  on  his  son,  whose  sorrows  mocked  relief; 
And,  hopeless,  wretched,  every  thought  resigned 
That  once  was  balm  and  comfort  to  his  mind. 
Then,  showering  blessings  o'er  his  offspring's  head, 

Groaning,  he  parted  from  that  dismal  cave ; 
And,  wrapt  in  deepest  anguish,  homeward  sped  ; 

But  'twas,  alas  !  to  his  expected  grave. 
Gently  he  sank,  by  age  and  grief  oppressed, 
From  this  vain  world  to  that  endless  rest. 
Vain  world  indeed  !  who  ever  rested  here  ? 
The  lustrous  moon  hath  its  eternal  sphere ; 
But  man,  who  in  this  mortal  prison  sighs, 
Appears  like  lightning,  and  like  lightning  flies. 

A  pilgrim-step  approached  the  wild  retreat, 
Where  Majnun  lingered  in  his  rocky  seat, 
And  the  sad  tale  was  told.     He  fell 
Upon  the  earth  insensible  ; 


154  Ni{ami. 

And,  grovelling,  with  a  frantic  air, 

His  bosom  beat  —  he  tore  his  hair, 

And  never  rested,  night  or  day, 

Till  he  had  wandered  far  away, 

Reached  the  sad  spot  where  peaceful  lay 

His  father's  bones,  now  crumbling  with  decay. 

His  arms  around  the  grave  he  flung, 

And  to  the  earth  delirious  clung  ; 

Grasping  the  ashes  of  the  dead, 

He  cast  them  o'er  his  prostrate  head, 

And,  with  repentant  tears,  bedewed 

The  holy  relics  round  him  strewed. 

O'erwhelming  was  the  sharpened  sense 

Of  his  contrition,  deep,  intense  ; 

And  sickness  wrapped  his  shattered  frame 

In  a  slow  fever's  parching  flame  : 

Still,  ceaseless,  'twas  his  wont  to  rave 

Upon  his  father's  sacred  grave. 

He  felt  the  bitterness  of  fate  ; 

He  saw  his  folly  now  too  late; 

And  worlds  would  give  again  to  share 

His  generous  father's  constant  care  ; 

For  he  had  oft,  in  wanton  guise, 

Contemned  the  counsels  of  the  wise  ; 

Had  with  a  child's  impatience  burned, 

And  scorn  for  sympathy  returned ; 

And  now,  like  all  of  human  mould, 

When  the  indulgent  heart  is  cold, 

Which  would  have  sealed  his  happiness, 

He  mourns  —  but  mourns  his  own  distress  ; 


Laili  and  Majnun.  155 

For,  when  the  diamond  blazed  like  day, 
He  cast  it  recklessly  away. 

XIV. 

Majnun  seeks  the  Forest. 

Who's  this  that  wanders  near  that  palmy  glade, 
Where  the  fresh  breeze  adds  coolness  to  the  shade  ? 
Tis  Majnun  ;  —  he  has  left  his  father's  tomb, 
Again  mid  rocks  and  scorching  plains  to  roam, 
Unmindful  of  the  sun's  meridian  heat, 
Or  the  damp  dewy  night,  with  unshod  feet ; 
Unmindful  of  the  forest's  savage  brood, 
Howling  on  every  side  in  quest  of  blood ; 
No  dread  has  he  from  aught  of  earth  or  air, 
From  den  or  eyry,  calm  in  his  despair : 
He  seems  to  court  new  perils,  and  can  view 
With  unblenched  visage  scenes  of  darkest  hue  ; 
Yet  is  he  gentle,  and  his  gracious  mien 
Checks  the  extended  claw,  where  blood  has  been ; 
For  tiger,  wolf,  and  panther  gather  round 
The  maniac  as  their  king,  and  lick  the  ground ; 
Fox  and  hyena  fierce  their  snarling  cease ; 
Lion  and  fawn  familiar  meet  in  peace ; 
Vulture  and  soaring  eagle,  on  the  wing, 
Around  his  place  of  rest  their  shadows  fling ; 
Like  Suliman,1  o'er  all  extends  his  reign ; 

1  No  name  is  more  famous  in  the  East  than  Solomon.  Omnipo- 
tence is  said  to  have  placed  under  his  obedience  not  only  mankind, 
but  animals.  The  birds  were  his  constant  attendants,  screening  him 
like  a  canopy  from  the  inclemencies  of  the  weather. 


156  Ni^ami. 

His  pillow  is  the  lion's  shaggy  mane  ; 
The  wily  leopard,  on  the  herbage  spread, 
Forms  like  a  carpet  his  romantic  bed  ; 
And  lynx  and  wolf,  in  harmony  combined, 
Frisk  o'er  the  sward  and  gambol  with  the  hind. 
All  pay  their  homage  with  respect  profound, 
As  if  in  circles  of  enchantment  bound. 

Among  the  rest,  one  little  fawn 

Skipped  nimbly  o'er  the  flowery  lawn  ; 

And,  beautifully  delicate, 

Sprang  where  th'  admiring  maniac  sate : 

So  soft,  so  meek,  so  sweetly  mild, 

So  shy,  so  innocently  wild, 

And,  ever  playful  in  his  sight, 

The  fondling  grew  his  great  delight ; 

He  loved  its  pleasing  form  to  trace, 

And  kiss  its  full  black  eyes  and  face, 

Thinking  of  Laili  all  the  while  ; 

For  fantasies  the  heart  beguile ; 

And,  with  th'  illusive  dream  impressed, 

He  hugged  the  favorite  to  his  breast : 

With  his  own  hand  the  fawn  he  fed, 

And  choicest  herbs  before  it  spread  ; 

And  all  the  beasts  assembled  there 

Partook  of  his  indulgent  care, 

And,  day  and  night,  they,  unconstrained, 

In  wondrous  harmony  remained. 

And  thus  throughout  the  world,  we  find 

Mid  brutes,  as  well  as  humankind, 


Laili  and  Majnun.  1 57 

A  liberal  hand,  a  friendly  voice, 

Bids  e'en  the  savage  heart  rejoice. 

There  is  a  curious  story  told 

Of  a  despotic  king  of  old, 

Which  proves  ferocious  beasts  endued 

With  a  deep  sense  of  gratitude. 

The  king  had  in  his  palace  bounds 

A  den  of  man-devouring  hounds  ; 

And  all  on  whom  his  anger  fell 

Were  cast  into  that  dreadful  cell. 

Among  the  courtiers  there  was  one, 

For  wisdom,  wit,  and  shrewdness  known, 

Long  in  the  royal  household  nursed, 

But  still  he  always  feared  the  worst, 

Thinking  the  fatal  day  might  come 

For  him  to  share  an  equal  doom ; 

And  therefore,  by  a  dexterous  scheme, 

His  life  endeavored  to  redeem. 

Unseen,  by  night,  he  often  stood 

And  fed  the  hounds  with  savory  food ; 

And  well  their  bounteous  friend  they  knew 

And  in  their  hearts  attachment  grew ; 

When,  just  as  he,  prophetic,  thought, 

The  king  his  death  unfeeling  sought ; 

Sternly  his  good  old  courtier  blamed, 

And  to  the  ravenous  dogs  condemned. 

'Twas  night  when  in  the  den  he  cast 

His  victim  for  a  dog's  repast : 

Next  morn,  unshamed  by  such  a  deed 

(Dooming  the  innocent  to  bleed), 


158  Ni\ami. 

He  sent  a  page  to  look  for  him. 

Torn,  he  expected,  limb  from  limb : 

The  wondering  keeper,  who  obeyed 

The  king,  and  not  a  trice  delayed, 

Now,  hastening  to  the  presence,  cried  :  — 

"  O  king  !  his  virtue  has  been  tried  ; 

He  bears  an  angel's  blessed  charm, 

And  God  protects  his  life  from  harm  : 

Untouched,  though  fettered  fast,  I  found  him, 

The  dogs  all  fondly  fawning  round  him  !  " 

The  king  was  struck  with  wonderment 

At  this  miraculous  event ; 

And  seeing,  in  that  horrid  cell, 

The  guiltless  courtier  safe  and  well, 

He  asked,  with  tears  profusely  shed, 

By  what  strange  spell  he  was  not  dead  ? 

"  No  juggling  words  had  I  to  say  ; 

I  fed  the  bloodhounds  every  day ; 

And  thence  their  gratitude  arose, 

Which  saved  me  from  my  cruel  foes. 

But  I  have  served  thee  many  a  year, 

And  for  it  thou  hast  sent  me  here  ! 

A  dog  has  feeling  —  thou  hast  none  — 

A  dog  is  thankful  for  a  bone  ; 

But  thou,  with  hands  in  blood  imbrued, 

Hast  not  one  spark  of  gratitude." 

Abashed  the  despot  saw  his  crimes, 

And  changed  his  frightful  course  betimes. 


Laili  and  Majnun.  159 


xv. 

Correspondence. 

Sweet  slumber  had  diffused  the  charm  of  rest 

Through  the  poor  maniac's  agitated  breast, 

And  as  the  morn,  magnificently  bright, 

Poured  o'er  the  cloudless  sky  its  purple  light, 

The  smiling  presage l  of  a  prosperous  day, 

He  rose  refreshed,  and  hailed  the  heavenly  ray. 

Graceful  he  stood  amidst  the  varied  herd, 

And,  warmed  with  hope,  his  orisons  preferred ; 

When  suddenly  a  horseman  met  his  view, 

Who,  as  it  seemed,  the  wandering  lover  knew. 

"  Romantic  youth  !  I  see  the  timorous  deer 

And  the  fierce  lion  meet  in  concord  here, 

And  thou  the  monarch  —  strange  !  but  mark  !  I  bear 

A  secret  tale  of  one,  so  loved,  so  fair, 

What  wouldst  thou  feel,  did  I  her  name  declare  ? 

What  is  the  cypress  to  her  form  divine? 

What  is  the  perfume  from  a  martyr's  shrine  ? 

What,  should  that  idol's  fate  be  mixed  with  thine? 

Her  ringlets  twisted  like  the  graceful  Jim,2 

Her  shape  an  Alif,  and  her  mouth  a  Mim ; 

Her  eyes  like  two  Narcissuses,  that  grow 

1  Literally,  on  that  day  he  rose  up  on  the  right-hand  side ;  a  sign 
that  his  fortune  would  be  auspicious. 

2  To  make  this  Persian  conceit,  of  not  unfrequent  occurrence, 
understood,  it  may  be  enough  to  say  the  letter  Jim,  of  the  Persian 
as  well  as  Arabic  alphabet,  is  formed  something  like  the  capital  T 
of  the  German  text;  the  Alif,  like  our  number  One  in  writing;  and 
the  Arabic  letter  Mim,  a  small  horizontal  oval. 


160  Ni{ami. 

Where  the  pure  waters  of  a  fountain  flow ; 

Her  eyebrows,  joined,  a  double  arch  express ; 

Her  beauteous  cheeks  an  angel  might  caress. 

But  what  can  I  of  such  perfection  say  ? 

How  to  the  blind  Creation's  charms  portray? 

I  saw  her  weep  —  the  tear-drops  glistening  fell 

In  showers  from  eyes  which  their  own  tale  could  tell ; 

And  yet  I  asked  for  whom  she  wept  and  mourned  — 

For  one  untrue,  or  one  to  dust  returned  ? 

Opening  her  ruby  lips,  she  softly  said  :  — 

1  My  heart l  is  desolate  —  my  joys  are  fled  ; 

I  once  was  Laili  —  need  I  more  reveal? 

Worse  than  a  thousand  maniacs  now  I  feel : 

More  wild  than  that  dark  star  which  rules  my  fate, 

More  mad  than  Majnun's  my  distracted  state. 

If  that  dark  spirit  thou  shouidst  haply  find  — 

That  mournful  wreck  of  an  enlightened  mind  — 

How  wilt  thou  recognize  him  ?     By  that  sad 

Disordered  aspect,  oft  pronounced  as  mad ; 

By  that  unutterable  grief  which  preys 

Upon  his  heart ;  that  melancholy  gaze, 

Which  has  no  sense  of  outward  things  ;  that  love 

So  pure,  an  emanation  from  above. 

O  that  I  could  escape  this  wretched  thrall, 

And  leave,  forever  leave,  my  father's  hall ! 

But  go,  and  seek  the  wanderer;  —  glen  and  cave 

Patient  explore  —  his  refuge,  or  his  grave  : 

Find  him ;  and,  faithful,  with  unwearied  feet 

1  The  original  runs,  Salt  is  thrown  upon  my  heart,  expressive  of 
anguish. 


Laili  and  Majnun.  161 

Return,  and  tell  me  his  forlorn  retreat.' 
Silent  I  heard  her  earnest  prayer ; 
Marked  her  desponding  voice  and  air ; 
And  while  she  still,  in  tenderest  mood, 
Bedewed  with  tears,  before  me  stood, 
The  story  of  thy  woes,  which  long 
Had  been  the  theme  of  many  a  song, 
Familiar  to  the  country  round, 
I  sang,  and  deep  affection  found ; 
So  deep,  that,  sigh  succeeding  sigh, 
She  trembled  in  her  agony, 
And,  senseless,  sank  upon  the  ground, 
Where  pale  and  motionless  she  lay 
As  if  her  life  had  ebbed  away. 
But  soon  as  that  dread  swoon  was  o'er, 

And  sobs  and  tears  relieved  her  heart ; 
Again  she  pressed  me  to  restore 

Him  she  adored  —  '  If  kind  thou  art, 
And  kind  thou  must  be  to  a  wretch  forlorn, 

I  feel  thou  wouldst  not  play  a  traitor's  part ; 
Thou  canst  not  view  my  misery  with  scorn. 
Alas  !  though  I  may  seem  to  him  untrue, 
Pity  is  still  to  woman's  sorrows  due.' 

"  Her  rosy  fingers  press 

The  written  tale  of  her  distress  ; 

And,  raising  to  her  ruby  mouth 

That  passionate  record  of  her  truth, 

Kissed  it  a  thousand  times,  and  shed 

A  flood  of  tears,  whilst  mournfully  she  said  — 


162  Nt{ami. 

1  To  him  this  sad  memorial  give  — 
To  him  for  whom  alone  I  live.'  " 

Majnun,  perplexed,  with  painful  feelings  riven, 

Seemed  to  refuse  what  still  to  him  was  Heaven ; 

Imputed  falsehood  swept  across  his  mind, 

But  left  no  dark  distrustful  thoughts  behind. 

At  length,  the  writing  eagerly  he  took  ; 

But,  as  he  read,  he  faltered,  wept,  and  shook. 
Adoring  the  Creator,1  she  began  :  — 
"  Beyond  the  praise  of  tongue,  to  mortal  man 
His  love  and  goodness,"  —  thus  her  nameh  ran  — 

"  He  with  the  light  of  wisdom  cheers  the  soul ; 

He  bids  the  cheek  to  glow,  the  eye  to  roll, 

And  every  mortal  bends  to  His  control. 

To  this,  He  scatters  jewels  bright  and  rare, 

To  that,  good  sense  to  strive  with  worldly  care : 

To  me  He  gave  the  love  which  time  defies  — 

The  love  I  bear  thee,  spotless  from  the  skies ; 

Fountain  of  Khizer,2  sparkling  in  the  shade  ! 

Fountain  of  life  to  thine  own  Arab  maid  ! 

In  truth  and  love  to  thee  my  heart  was  given,  — 

1  This  is  the  usual  process  in  Oriental  composition ;  and  there  is 
not  a  document  ever  written  in  Arabic  or  Persian  but  has  the  letter 
Alif,  at  least,  placed  at  the  top  of  the  page,  signifying  there  is  but 
one  God.  The  poets  are  especially  scrupulous  in  pious  exordiums 
to  the  Deity. 

2  Khizer  is  the  name  of  a  prophet,  who,  according  to  Oriental 
tradition,  was  vizier  and  general  to  an  ancient  king  of  Persia.  They 
say  that  he  discovered  and  drank  of  the  fountain  of  life,  and  that,  in 
consequence,  he  will  not  die  till  the  last  trumpet.  He  is  by  some 
confounded  with  the  prophet  Elias,  and,  which  is  somewhat  singular, 
likewise  with  St.  George  of  England,  whom  they  call  Khizer  Elias, 
imagining  that  the  same  soul  animated  both  by  transmigration. 


Laili  and  Majnun.  163 

That  truth  and  love  remain,  the  gift  of  Heaven. 

Though  far  from  thee  —  a  wife  against  my  will, 

I  am  thine  own  affianced  partner  still : 

Still  single  —  still,  in  purity  and  faith, 

Thine  own  unchanged  —  unchangeable  in  death. 

Thou'rt  all  the  world  to  me  —  the  very  earth 

Thou  tread'st  on  is  to  me  of  matchless  worth ; 

Yet  in  a  different  sphere  my  race  is  run ; 

I  am  the  moon,  and  thou  the  radiant  sun : 

By  destiny  thus  sundered  —  how  can  I 

Merit  reproach,  who  at  thy  feet  would  die  ! 

Since  thus  divided,  pity  thou  my  lot, 

With  all  thy  vows  and  raptures  unforgot ; 

Life's  sweetest  flowerets,  in  their  brightest  bloom, 

Turned  to  the  bitterness  of  fell  Zikum" 1 

Yes,  Majnun  wept  and  shook ;  and  now 
What  answer  could  he  frame,  and  how? 
A  wanderer,  destitute  —  no  reed, 
No  tablets,  to  supply  his  need  — 
But  Laili's  messenger  had  brought 
The  means  —  and  thus  the  maniac  wrote  :  — 
"  To  Him  who  formed  the  starry  throne 
Of  heaven,  and  rules  the  world  alone ; 
Who,  in  the  dark  mysterious  mine, 
Maketh  the  unseen  diamond  shine ; 
Who  thus  on  human  life  bestows 
The  gem  which  in  devotion  glows ; 

1  An  infernal  tree,  mentioned  in  the  Koran,  the  fruit  of  which  is 
supposed  to  be  the  heads  of  devils. 


164  Ni{anii. 

To  Him  be  gratitude  and  praise, 

The  constant  theme  of  Moslem  lays  ! 

—  A  burning  heart,  in  sorrow  deep, 

What  can  it  do  but  sigh  and  weep? 

And  what  can  this  memorial  bear 

To  thee,  but  wailings  of  despair? 

I  am  the  dust  beneath  thy  feet, 

Though  destined  never  more  to  meet. 

Thy  beauty  is  my  Kaba  shrine, 

The  arc  of  heaven,  forever  mine ; 

Garden  of  Irem  —  hid  from  me, 

The  Paradise  I  must  not  see  ; 

Yet  thou  hast  quenched  my  genial  light ; 

My  day  is  now  like  blackest  night. 

With  fondness  on  thy  flattering  tongue 

Thou  smilest,  and  my  heart  is  wrung ; 

For  those  whose  tongues  are  gentlest  found 

Are  wont  to  give  the  deadliest  wound. 

The  lily's  petals  oft  appear 

As  fatal  as  the  sword  or  spear. 

She,  whom  'twas  rapture  to  behold, 

Could  she  be  basely  bought  and  sold  ? 

Couldst  thou  to  me  thy  promise  break, 

And  spurn  me  for  another's  sake  ? 

Acting  a  bland  deceiver's  part, 

And  solacing  another's  heart  ! 

But,  peace  !  —  no  more  of  thoughts  so  sad, 

Or  I  shall  grow  intensely  mad  ; 

I  yearn  no  more  those  lips  to  press ;  — 

But  is  the  joy  of  memory  less? 


Laili  and  Ma j nun.  165 

The  morning  breeze  thy  fragrance  brings ; 
And  up  my  heart  exulting  springs ; 
Still  more  when  I  reflecting  see 
How  once  the  cup  was  filled  by  thee. 
O  Heaven  !  how  rapturous  to  receive 
That  which  forbids  the  heart  to  grieve ; 
To  sit  with  thee  in  amorous  play, 
And  quaff  the  ruby  every  day  ; 
To  kiss  those  lips,  all  honey-dew, 
Of  liquid  bright  cornelian  hue  ! 
Oh  !  could  I  kiss  them  once  again  ! 
The  fancy  fires  my  wildered  brain. 
—  Need  I  the  painter's  art  to  trace 
The  lineaments  of  thy  angel  face? 
No  —  they're  indelibly  impressed 
Within  my  ever  faithful  breast. 
'Tis  ours,  divided,  to  deplore 
Scenes  we  can  never  witness  more ; 
But,  though  on  earth  denied  to  rest, 
Shall  we  not  both  in  heaven  be  blessed  1 " 

Maj nun's  distracted  state  was  not  unknown 
Where  to  the  wretched  kindness  could  be  shown  ; 
—  A  wealthy  chieftain  (Selim  was  his  name), 
Whose  generous  deeds  had  won  the  world's  acclaim  ; 
Whose  heart  was  still  on  others'  woes  engaged  — 
He  healed  their  wounds,  their  anguish  he  assuaged  ; 
Raiment  and  various  food  had  oft  supplied, 
Where'er  the  love-lorn  wanderer  might  abide. 
Mounted  upon  his  rapid  steed,  one  day, 


1 66  Ni^ami. 

He  sought  the  distant  place  where  Majnun  lay ; 

And  him  at  length,  with  placid  mien,  he  found 

By  herds  of  forest  beasts  encompassed  round. 

Fearful  of  savage  natures,  he  retired, 

Till  Majnun,  beckoning,  confidence  inspired; 

And  then,  approaching  near,  he  told  his  name, 

And  recognized  him,  though  his  wasted  frame 

Seemed  an  uncoffined  corse.     Ashamed,  he  said  — 

"  O  let  these  robes  thy  naked  body  shade, 

These  robes  for  thee  brought  hither."    "  Not  for  me  ; 

I  want  no  covering,  —  without  clothes  I'm  free. 

Behold  these  tattered  fragments,  thrown  aside  ; 

These  once  were  robes,  and  once  my  foolish  pride." 

But,  pressed  again,  those  tatters  he  resumed, 

And  sat  like  one  to  death  and  darkness  doomed. — 

Now  savory  viands  were  before  him  spread, 

But  not  a  morsel  raised  he  to  his  head ; 

He  turned  him  round,  and,  scorning  the  repast, 

To  his  familiars  all  the  banquet  cast. 

Then  Selim  asked  :  "  What  is  thy  food,  my  friend  ? 

Without  support,  thy  life  must  quickly  end." 

— "  My  spirit's  freshness,  and  its  secret  power, 

Come  from  the  breeze  which  marks  the  morning-hour ; 

Yes,  every  zephyr  from  my  mistress  brings 

Life  to  the  soul  upon  its  fragrant  wings ; 

When  hunger  presses,  from  the  weeping  trees 

I  gather  gums,  its  cravings  to  appease  ; 

And  herbs  and  grass,  and  the  transparent  rill, 

Support  me  in  the  state  thou  seest  me  still ; 

But  though  thy  proffered  food  regale  not  me, 


Laili  and  Majnun.  \67 

The  beasts  around  enjoyed  the  banquetry ; 

And  if  I  sought  on  living  thing  to  feed, 

Birds  might  be  caught ;  but  I  detest  the  deed  ; 

And  he  who  is  contented  grass  to  eat, 

Defies  the  world  —  the  world  is  at  his  feet ; 

For  what  can  pomp,  and  wealth,  and  feasts  avail? 

I  live  on  grass  :  —  but  hear  the  Zahid's  tale. 

"  In  ancient  times  a  king,  they  say, 

Through  a  wild  forest  took  his  way  ; 

And  marking,  as  along  he  rode, 

A  Zahid's  desolate  abode, 

Asked  his  attendants  if  they  knew 

What  the  Recluse  was  wont  to  do ; 

What  was  his  food,  and  where  he  slept, 

And  why  remote  from  man  he  kept.  — 

A  courtier  to  the  Zahid  ran, 

And  soon  brought  forth  that  holy  man;  — 

'  And  wherefore  dost  thou  pass  thy  days 

Shunning  the  world's  inviting  ways, 

Choosing  this  dismal  wretched  hole, 

Grave  of  the  body  and  the  soul?  ' 

—  '  I  have  no  friends  to  love  me  —  none  ; 

No  power,  except  to  live  alone.' 

Then,  where  his  fawns  in  quiet  fed, 

Took  up  some  blades  of  grass,  and  said  :  — 

'  This  is  my  food  —  this,  want  supplies  ! ' 

The  courtier  looked  with  scornful  eyes, 

And  answered  :  '  Taste  but  royal  food, 

And  thou'lt  not  fancy  grass  so  good.' 


168  Ni;ami. 

'  Indeed  ! '  the  Zahid  said,  and  smiled, 

c  That  is  a  sad  mistake.,  my  child  ! 

Worldlings  are  still  to  luxury  prone  ; 

To  thee  its  sweetness  is  unknown ; 

Stranger  to  such  delicious  fare, 

Xo  doubt  thou'rt  charmed  with  food  more  rare  ; 

—  Soon  as  this  speech  the  monarch  heard, 

Noting,  attentive,  every  word, 

And  wondering  such  a  seer  to  meet, 

Fell  at  the  pious  Zahid's  feet, 

And  kissed  the  greensward,  as  he  knelt 

Where  that  contented  hermit  dwelt." 


XVI. 

Majnun's  Mother  Dies. 

O'er  Majnun's  spirit,  long  in  darkness  cast, 
A  fitful  gleam  of  homeward  feeling  passed  ; 
And  now  he  asks  for  friends  he  once  preferred, 
Asks  for  his  mother,  broken-winged  bird ; 
And  wishes  e'en  to  visit  home  again  — 
As  if  the  maddening  fire  had  left  his  brain. 
Selim  at  this  brief  glimpse  of  reason  caught, 
And  to  his  mother's  distant  mansion  brought 
Without  delay  the  wanderer.     Deep  her  grief 
To  see  how  withered  was  that  verdant  leaf — 
To  see  the  red  rose  faded  from  his  cheek, 
His  eye  so  altered,  and  his  frame  so  weak ; 
From  head  to  foot  she  kisses  him.  and  weeps ; 
His  hair,  all  matted,  in  her  tears  she  steeps, 


La  Hi  and  Majnun.  169 

And  clasps  him  fondly  to  her  beating  heart, 

As  if  she  never  from  her  boy  would  part :  — 

"  My  darling  child  !  the  love-game  thou  hast  played 

Has  thus,  alas  !  reduced  thee  to  a  shade  ; 

In  that  encounter  sad  of  mortal  scathe 

Thou  graspedst  the  two-edged  scimiter  of  death. 

Thy  father  gone,  his  troubles  all  are  past, 

Heartbroken  man  !  and  I  shall  follow  fast. 

Arise  !  and  enter  thy  own  mansion  here  ; 

Come,  'tis  thy  own  sweet  home,  and  doubly  dear — 

Thy  nest ;  —  and  birds,  though  distant  in  their  flight, 

Always  return  to  their  own  nests  at  night. 

While  yet  an  infant  in  thy  cradle-bed, 

I  watched  thy  slumber,  pillowed  thy  sweet  head ; 

And  canst  thou  now  that  mother's  fondness  see, 

And  mark  without  remorse  her  love  for  thee? 

Refuse  the  joy  thy  presence  can  impart, 

And  cast  a  shadow  o'er  her  drooping  heart?  " 

A  cloud  again  obscured  the  orb  of  day  — 
Again  his  wavering  intellect  gave  way  : 
u  Mother,  there  is  no  hope  —  the  time  is  past; 
With  gloom  eternal  is  my  fate  o'ercast ; 
Xo  fault  of  mine  —  no  crime,  to  press  me  down  — 
But  all  my  countless  woes  to  thee  are  known  ; 
Like  a  poor  bird  within  its  cage  immured, 
My  soul  has  long  this  prison-life  endured. 
Ask  me  not,  mother,  to  remain  at  home ; 
For  there,  to  me,  no  peace  can  ever  come. 
Oh,  better  will  it  be  for  me  to  stray 
Mid  mountain-glens,  and  herd  with  beasts  of  prey, 


170  hHymi. 

Than  linger  on  a  spot  where  human  care 

Only  augments  my  misery  and  despair." 

He  ceased  and  kissed  his  mother's  feet,  and  fled 

Precipitate  along  the  path  which  led 

To  the  wild  mountains.     Dreadful  was  the  stroke  ! 

The  mother's  heart,  like  the  old  father's,  broke ; 

In  Death's  cold  ocean,  wave  follows  wave ; 

And  thus  she  followed  to  the  silent  grave. 

Selim  again  the  maniac's  haunts  explored, 
Again  supplied  his  frugal  board, 
And,  with  a  mournful  voice,  the  tale  revealed  — 
Father  and  mother  gone, 
Himself  now  left  alone, 
Sole  heir  —  his  doom  of  desolation  sealed  — 
He  beat  his  brows,  and  from  his  eyes 
Fell  tears  of  blood  ;  his  piercing  cries 
Rang  through  the  forest,  and  again, 
Pouring  the  saddest,  wildest  strain, 
He  hastened  from  his  gloomy  cave, 
To  weep  upon  his  mother's  grave. 
But  when  that  paroxysm  of  grief — 
That  agony  intense,  but  brief  — 
Had,  like  a  whirlwind,  passed  away, 

And  left  him  in  a  milder  mood, 
To  love  and  Laili  still  a  prey, 

He  trod  again  his  mountain  solitude : 
For  what  to  him  was  hoarded  store, 
The  wealth  of  parents  now  no  more  ? 
Had  he  not  long,  ill-fated  one  ! 
Abandoned  all  for  love  alone? 


Laili  and  Majnun.  171 


XVII. 

The  Serenade. 

Laili  meanwhile  had  read  and  seen 

What  Majnun's  thoughts  had  ever  been ; 

And  though  her  plighted  faith  seemed  broken, 

From  him  she  held  the  tenderest  token : 

Deep  in  her  heart,  a  thousand  woes 

Disturbed  her  days'  and  nights'  repose  : 

A  serpent  at  its  very  core, 

Writhing  and  gnawing  evermore  ; 

And  no  relief —  a  prison-room 

Being  now  the  lovely  sufferer's  doom. 

—  Fate  1  looked  at  last  with  favoring  eye ; 

The  night  was  dark,  no  watchman  nigh ; 

And  she  had  gained  the  outer  gate, 

Where,  shrouded,  unobserved,  she  sate. 

Gazing  on  every  side  to  find 

Some  friend  to  calm  her  troubled  mind; 

When,  welcome  as  a  cherished  guest, 

A  holy  seer  her  vision  blessed, 

Who,  ever,  like  an  angel,  strove 

The  heart's  deep  anguish  to  remove ; 

Who  lived  to  succor  the  distressed, 

To  soothe  and  stanch  the  bleeding  breast : 

To  him  she  spake  :  "  In  pity  hear, 

A  wretch  distraught  with  love  and  fear  ! 

1  Literally,  The  day  on  which  her  food  was  not  infested  with  flies. 
A  day  free  from  misfortune  or  annoyance. 


172  Ni{Limi. 

Know'st  thou  the  youth,  of  peerless  grace, 
Who  mingles  with  the  forest  race, 
Savage  or  tame,  and  fills  the  air, 
Alas  !  for  me,  with  his  despair?  " 

—  "  Yes,  lovely  moon  !  "  he  answered,  —  "  well  I  know 
That  hapless  wanderer,  and  his  cureless  woe  ; 

Laili  still  on  his  tongue,  the  Arab  maid 
He  ceaseless  seeks  through  every  bower  and  glade, 
Unconscious  of  the  world,  its  bloom  or  blight, 
Laili  alone  forever  in  his  sight." 

The  Arab  maiden  wept,  and  cried  :    "  No  more  ! 
I  am  the  cause,  and  I  his  loss  deplore ; 
Both  have  our  sorrows,  both  are  doomed  to  feel 
The  wounds  of  absence,  which  will  never  heal ; 
For  me  he  roams  through  desert  wild  and  drear, 
While  Fate  condemns  me  to  be  fettered  here  ! " 

—  Then  from  her  ear  a  lustrous  gem  she  drew, 
Which,  having  kissed,  she  to  the  hermit  threw  — 
And  said  :  "  Forbid  it  I  should  ask  in  vain  ! 

Let  those  fond  eyes  behold  his  face  again  ! 
But  caution  must  control  the  zeal  you  show : 
Some  signal  must  be  given,  that  I  may  know 
When  he  is  nigh  —  some  stanzas  of  his  own 
Warbled  beneath  my  casement,  where,  alone, 
I  sit  and  watch  —  for  secret  must  we  be, 
Or  all  is  lost  to  Majnun  and  to  me  !  " 

—  Within  his  girdle-fold  the  smiling  saint 
Placed  the  rich  gem,  and  on  his  errand  went. 
But  did  no  obstacle  his  task  oppose? 

A  thousand,  daily,  in  his  progress  rose : 


Laili  and  Majnun.  173 

Where'er  his  arduous  course  he  anxious  urged, 

Perplexing  paths  in  various  lines  diverged  ; 

Through  tangled  glens,  the  ground  with  creepers  spread, 

Meshes  of  shadowy  branches  o'er  his  head, 

Now  a  wide  plain  before  him  —  mountains  gray, 

And  now  an  emerald  greensward  cheered  his  way  : 

At  last  upon  a  hillock's  shady  side, 

The  long-sought  love-sick  wanderer  he  descried, 

By  forest  beasts  surrounded,  —  in  a  ring, 

Like  guards  appointed  to  protect  their  king. 

Majnun  perceived  him,  and  with  upraised  hand 

Made  his  wild  followers  at  a  distance  stand  ; 

And  then  the  seer  approached  —  his  homage  paid  — 

"  O  thou,  unmatched  in  love  ! "  he  kindly  said, 

"  Laili,  the  world  and  beauty's  queen, 

Who  long  has  thy  adorer  been  ; 

And  many  a  year  has  run  its  race, 

Since  she  has  seen  that  pensive  face  — 

Since  she  has  heard  that  tuneful  voice 

Which  ever  made  her  heart  rejoice  : 

And  now,  at  her  command,  I  bear 

Her  earnest,  almost  dying,  prayer. 

She  longs  to  see  thee  once  again, 

To  sit  with  thee  and  soothe  thy  pain ; 

To  feel,  on  pleasure's  downy  wings, 

The  joy  a  lover's  presence  brings. 

And  wilt  thou  not,  with  equal  glee, 

Behold  thyself  from  bondage  free  ? 

The  Grove  of  Palms  thy  feet  must  trace, 

Near  Laili's  rural  dwelling-place. 


174  Ni^ami. 

That  is  the  promised  spot ;  and  thou 
Wilt  there  receive  both  pledge  and  vow, 
And  sing,  with  voice -subdued  and  clear, 
Thy  sweetest  ghazel  in  her  ear." 
Majnun  uprose  with  joyous  look, 
And  for  his  guide  the  hermit  took : 
And,  passing  quick  the  space  between, 
Arrived  at  that  romantic  scene 
Where  the  majestic  palms  displayed 
A  cool,  refreshing  depth  of  shade  ; 
And  there  the  tribes  of  wood  and  plain, 
Which  formed  the  wanderer's  vassal-train, 
Promptly  as  human  retinue, 
To  an  adjoining  copse  withdrew. 

The  seer,  advancing  with  a  cautious  pace, 

To  the  pavilion  of  that  angel  face  — 

That  star  of  beauty  —  that  sweet  silvery  moon  — 

Whispered  the  presence  of  her  own  Majnun. 

But  woman's  mind  can  from  its  purpose  range, 

And  seem  to  change,  without  the  power  to  change ; 

And  thus  she  said  :  "  Alas  !  it  cannot  be  : 

I  must  not  meet  him  :  such  is  Fate's  decree ; 

The  lamp  thus  lit,  Love's  temple  to  illume, 

Will  not  enlighten,  but  the  heart  consume ; 

For  I  am  wedded  —  to  another  given  — 

This  worthless  dust  still  in  the  view  of  Heaven  ; 

And  though  compelled —  let  others  bear  the  blame  ! 

I  was  not  born  to  sacrifice  my  fame. 

Prudence  forbids  such  perils  should  be  mine ; 


Lai  It  and  Ma / nun.  175 

Rather  forever  let  me  here  repine ; 
But  faithful  still,  with  his  melodious  tongue 
How  often  have  the  sweetest  echoes  rung? 
Yes,  faithful  still,  he  may  upon  mine  ear 
Chant  the  rich  numbers  which  I  love  to  hear : 
Let  him  with  nectar  fill  his  luscious  cup, 
And,  still  adoring,  I  will  drink  it  up." 
Prostrate,  in  tears,  upon  a  fountain's  side, 
The  saint  found  Majnun,  who  impatient  cried  — 
"What  is  this  amber  incense  round  me  flying? 
Is  it  the  breath  of  spring  o'er  rosebuds  sighing? 
No  —  not  the  fragrance  of  the  early  spring  — 
Laili's  sweet  locks  alone  such  odors  fling  ! 
So  powerful  is  the  impulse  they  impart, 
They  fill  with  dying  ecstasy  my  heart." 

The  saint,  well-taught  in  love's  mysterious  lore, 
Knew  what  it  was  the  absent  to  deplore ; 
But  said  :  "  Thou  canst  not  hope  that  she, 
Unsought,  unasked,  will  come  to  thee  ! 
Woman  demands  a  warmer  suit, 
And  none  her  sacred  power  dispute." 

"  Upbraid  me  not  with  maxim  old  — 
Think'st  thou  that  Majnun's  suit  is  cold 
When,  from  the  very  scent,  I  feel 
Intoxication  o'er  me  steal? 
Must  I  the  real  bliss  decline 
And  never  taste  the  luscious  wine  ?  " 
So  saying,  seated  in  that  palmy  grove, 
To  Laili  thus  he  breathed  his  lay  of  love. 


1 76  Ni{ami. 

"O  whither  art  thou  gone? 

And  where  am  I  ?  —  alone  ! 
Forsaken,  lost  —  and  what  remains  ? 
Life  only  creeping  through  my  veins  ; 
And  yet  that  life  is  not  my  own, 
But  thine  ;  —  I  only  breathe  to  moan  : 
A  thing  of  memory,  to  deplore 
The  past,  since  hope  can  smile  no  more. 
Familiar  to  the  pangs  which  scorn  relief, 
Grief1  smiles  upon  me,  and  I  smile  on  grief. 
Grief  makes  thee  dearer  still ;  for  grief  and  thee 
Seem  of  each  other  born.     Grief  paints  to  me 
Thy  matchless  beauty  :  —  without  grief,  no  thought 
Of  thy  perfections  to  my  mind  is  brought. 
O  Heaven  !  that  ever  we  were  doomed  to  part  !  — 
We  are  but  one  —  two  bodies,  and  one  heart. 
As  summer  clouds  with  rain  the  meadows  greet, 
Majnun  dissolves  in  sorrow  at  thy  feet  ■ 
Whilst  thy  soft  cheeks  lend  beauty  to  the  sky, 
Majnun,  alas  !  is  taught  by  them  to  die. 
The  bulbul 2  o'er  thy  roses  joyous  stoops  ; 
Majnun,  from  thee  disjoined,  divided,  droops ; 
And  whilst  the  world  devotes  itself  to  strife, 
Majnun  would  sacrifice  to  thee  his  life. 
O  that  kind  fortune  would  our  joys  approve, 
And  yield  the  blessings  of  successful  love  ! 
The  gorgeous  moon,  with  her  pellucid  light, 

1  Shakespeare  has  something  like  this  personification  of  grief  in 
King  John,  iii. 

2  The  bulbul  is  the  nightingale. 


Laili  ami  Majnun.  \77 

Converting  into  dazzling  day  the  night ; 

And  we  together  seated,  ear  to  ear, 

The  sparkling  wine,  our  beverage,  ever  near  ; 

I  playing  with  those  ringlets,  which  descend 

In  magic  curls,  and  o'er  thy  shoulders  bend ; 

Thou,  with  those  dark  and  love-enkindling  eyes, 

In  which  the  living  spell  of  witchery  lies, 

Gazing  in  fondness  on  me.     That  sweet  lip  ! 

I  see  it  the  rich  wine  enamoured  sip  : 

I  see  us  both  —  what  happiness  !  and  none 

To  drive  the  sovereign  pleasure  from  his  throne  ; 

Nor  shame,  nor  fear,  to  crush  affection's  flower, 

Happy,  unseen,  in  that  sequestered  bower. 

—  But  bring  me  wine  !  this  bright  illusion  stay  ! 

Wine  !  wine  !  keep  sad  realities  away  ! 

Wine,  Saki,  wine  !  the  house  without  a  light 

Is  but  a  prison,  odious  to  the  sight ; 

For  broken  hearts,  immured  in  gloom  like  mine, 

Are  dungeon-dark,  unblessed  with  light  or  wine  ; 

O  God  !  preserve  me  from  this  endless  night  ! 

Give  me  one  day  of  joy  —  one  moment  of  delight !  " 

Then,  strangely  moved,  he  wildly  closed  his  lay, 
Sprung  on  his  feet,  and  sudden  burst  away ; 
And  Laili,  who  had  heard  him,  deeply  mourned, 
And,  sad,  to  her  secluded  home  returned. 


1 78  Ni{ami. 


XVIII. 

Love. 

Through  many  a  town  and  bower  had  spread 

The  maniac's  tale  —  all  anxious  read 

In  Bagdad  and  far-distant  plains 

The  mournful  lover's  amorous  strains  ; 

And  every  heart,  which  had  been  wrung 

With  withered  hopes,  in  pity  hung 

O'er  sorrows  which  to  madness  drove  — 

The  very  martyrdom  of  love. 

And  all  aspired  to  seek  the  cave 

Which  hourly  might  become  his  grave ; 

To  find  th'  enduring  man ;  to  view 

That  prodigy  —  but  seen  by  few  — 

Of  whom  the  world  astonished  spoke, 

As  crushed  beneath  misfortune's  yoke  ; 

Whose  truth  and  constancy  excelled 

All  that  the  world  had  e'er  beheld. 

A  gallant  youth,  who  long  had  known 

The  pangs  of  love,  impatient  rose, 
And  on  his  camel,  all  alone, 

Sought  for  the  man  of  many  woes ; 
Anxious  to  be  the  first  to  see 
The  man  preeminent  in  misery  ; 
And  many  a  farsang *  he  had  rode, 
Before  he  reached  the  lover's  wild  abode. 

1  A  parasang,  a  league. 


Laili  and  Majnun.  179 

Majnun  beheld  him  from  afar, 

And  sent  his  vassals  to  their  lair ; 

And  welcome  gave,  and  asked  his  name, 

And  whence  the  hurrying  stranger  came.  — 

"  I  come,  my  friend,  to  make  thee  glad  ; 

I  come  from  beautiful  Bagdad. 

In  that  enchanting  place  I  might 

Have  lived  in  transport  day  and  night ; 

But  I  have  heard  thy  tender  lays, 

Thy  sorrows,  which  the  world  amaze  ; 

And  all  that  now  remains  for  me 

Is,  all  life  long,  to  dwell  with  thee. 

Thy  tuneful  strains  such  joy  impart, 

Each  word  is  treasured  in  my  heart : 

In  love,  like  thee,  I  weep  and  sigh  — 

Let  us  together  live  —  together  die  !  " 

Astonished  at  this  strange  desire, 

Laughing,  the  maniac  thus  replies :  — 
"  Sir  knight !  so  soon  does  pleasure  tire  ? 

And  dost  thou  worldly  pomp  despise, 
And  all  that  luxury  can  give, 
With  me  in  wood  and  cave  to  live  ? 

"  Mistaken  youth  !  what  dost  thou  know 
Of  broken  hearts  —  of  love  like  mine  — 

That  thou  shouldst  life's  sweet  joys  forego, 
And  every  cheering  hope  resign  ? 

I  have  companions,  night  and  day  ; 

But  forest  inmates  —  beasts  of  prey ; 

Yet  do  I  ask  n©  other  —  none  ; 


1 80  Ni{ami. 

I'd  rather  live  with  them  alone. 
What  hast  thou  social  seen  in  me, 
When  demons  from  my  presence  flee, 
That  thou  wouldst  brave  the  noontide  heat, 

The  dangers  of  the  midnight  air, 
Unsheltered,  naked  head  and  feet, 

To  herd  with  one  not  worth  thy  care, 
Nor  worth  a  thought?     Beneath  the  scorching  sun 
I  thread  the  wild  wood,  and,  when  day  is  done, 
Lay  myself  down  upon  a  beggar's  throne  — 
My  canopy,  the  trees  —  my  pillow,  a  rude  stone. 
Houseless  and  poor,  and  oft  with  hunger  pressed, 
How  can  I  take  a  stranger  for  my  guest  ? 
Whilst  thou,  surrounded  by  thy  friends  at  home, 
Moved  by  no  need,  but  by  a  whim  to  roam, 
Mayst  pass  thy  hours  in  cheerfulness  and  glee, 
And  never  think  of  such  a  wretch  as  me  ! " 
The  gallant  youth  now  placed  in  view 

Various  refreshments  he  had  thither  brought  — 
Sweet  cakes  and  fruit  —  and  from  his  pannier  drew 

Heart-easing  wine,  his  purpose  to  promote, 
To  win  the  favor  of  the  moon-struck  man ; 
And  thus  his  brief  but  earnest  speech  began :  — 
"  Friend,  share  my  meal  in  kindness,  and  allow 
A  smile  of  joy  to  clear  that  furrowed  brow  ! 
In  bread  is  life ;  it  strengthens  every  part, 
And,  while  it  strengthens,  cheers  the  drooping  heart." 
Majnun  rejoined  :  "  The  argument  is  just ; 
Without  refreshment  man  descends  to  dust : 
Nerve,  power,  and  strength  from  nourishment  proceed  ; 


Laili  and  Majnun.  181 

But  this  is  not  the  nourishment  I  need." 
"  Yet  mortals  change,  whate'er  their  aim  ; 
Nothing  on  earth  remains  the  same ; 
I  know  thou  canst  not  be  unmoved ; 

Forever  thus  thou  canst  not  be ; 
Perpetual  change  the  heavens  have  proved ; 

And  night  and  morn,  successively, 
Attest  its  truth.     That  thou  hast  loved 

I  know ;  but  thou  mayst  yet  be  free  : 
The  heavens  are  clothed  in  deepest  gloom ; 
Black  is  the  threatening  day  of  doom  ; 
The  clouds  fly  off,  the  storm  is  past, 
No  longer  howls  the  scattering  blast ; 
The  heavens  resume  their  wonted  sheen, 
And  brighter  glows  the  varied  scene : 
So  grief  devours  the  heart  awhile  ; 
So  frowns  are  followed  by  a  smile : 
Like  thee  was  I  enchanted,  bound, 
Girt  by  love's  galling  fetters  round ; 
But  to  the  winds  my  grief  I  flung, 
And  to  my  fate  no  longer  clung. 
This  fire  of  love,  which  burns  so  bright, 
What  is  it  but  a  treacherous  light? 
The  type  of  youth  ;  —  when  that  is  o'er, 
The  burning  mountain  flames  no  more  ! " 
But  Majnun  spurned  the  traitor-thought,  and  said  :  — 
"  Speak'st  thou  to  me  as  one  to  feeling  dead? 
I  am  myself  the  king  of  love  ;  and  now 
Glory  in  my  dominion  :  and  wouldst  thou 
Persuade  me  to  abandon  all  that  Heaven 


1 82  Ni{ami. 

Has,  mid  my  sufferings,  for  my  solace  given, 
To  quit  that  cherished  hope,  than  life  more  dear, 
Which  rivets  me  to  earth,  and  keeps  me  here? 
That  pure  ethereal  love,  that  mystic  flower, 
Nurtured  in  Heaven,  fit  for  an  angel's  dower? 
What  !  from  my  heart  expel  the  dream  of  love  ? 
First  from  the  ocean's  bed  the  sands  remove  ! 
Useless  the  effort,  —  useless  is  thy  aim,  — 
Thou  canst  not  quench  a  never  dying  flame. 
Then  cease  persuasion.     Why  to  me  appear 
A  master,  teaching,  like  some  holy  seer? 
He  who  aspires  to  open  locks,  they  say, 
To  be  successful,  first  must  know  the  way." 
The  youth  perceived  his  error,  yet  remained 

In  friendly  converse  a  few  fleeting  days ; 
And,  by  the  oracle  of  love  enchained, 

Listened,  enraptured,  to  his  varied  lays ; 
Companionship  delectable  !  then  rose 

To  bid  adieu,  since  there  he  might  not  stay, 
And,  sorrowing,  left  the  man  of  many  woes, 

Surrounded  by  his  vassal  beasts  of  prey. 


XIX. 

Laili's  Husband  Dies. 

How  beautifully  blue 

The  firmament  !  how  bright 
The  moon  is  sailing  through 

The  vast  expanse,  to-night ! 


Laili  and  Majnun.  183 

And  at  this  lovely  hour 

The  lonely  Laili  weeps 
Within  her  prison-tower 

And  her  sad  record  keeps  — 

How  many  days,  how  many  years, 

Her  sorrows  she  has  borne  ! 
A  lingering  age  of  sighs  and  tears  ; 

A  night  that  has  no  morn  : 
Yet  in  that  guarded  tower  she  lays  her  head, 
Shut  like  a  gem  within  its  stony  bed. 
And  who  the  warder  of  that  place  of  sighs  ? 
Her  husband  !  —  he  the  dragon-watch  supplies. 

What  words  are  those  which  meet  her  anxious  ear? 
Unusual  sounds,  unusual  sights  appear ; 
Lamps  flickering  round,  and  wailings  sad  and  low, 
Seem  to  proclaim  some  sudden  burst  of  woe. 
Beneath  her  casement  rings  a  wild  lament ; 
Death-notes  disturb  the  night ;  the  air  is  rent 
With  clamorous  voices ;  every  hope  is  fled ; 
He  breathes  no  longer —  Ibn  Salam  is  dead  ! 
The  fever's  rage  had  nipped  him  in  his  bloom ; 
He  sank  unloved,  unpitied,  to  the  tomb. 

And  Laili  marks  the  moon ;  a  cloud 

Had  stained  its  lucid  face ; 
The  mournful  token  of  a  shroud, 
End  of  the  humble  and  the  proud, 

The  grave  their  resting-place. 
And  now  to  her  the  tale  is  told, 


184  Ni{arni. 

Her  husband's  hand  and  heart  are  cold  : 

And  must  she  mourn  the  death  of  one 

Whom  she  had  loathed  to  look  upon  ? 

In  customary  garb  arrayed, 

The  pomp  of  grief  must  be  displayed  — 

Dishevelled  tresses,  streaming  eyes, 

The  heart  remaining  in  disguise  — 

She  seemed,  distraction  in  her  mien, 

To  feel  her  loss,  if  loss  had  been ; 

But  all  .the  burning  tears  she  shed 

Were  for  her  own  Majnun,  not  for  the  dead  ! 

The  rose  that  hailed  the  purple  morn, 
All  glistening  with  the  balmy  dew, 

Looked  still  more  lonely  when  the  thorn 
Had  been  removed  from  where  it  grew. 

But  Arab  laws  had  still  their  claim 

Upon  a  virtuous  widow's  fame. 

And  what  destroyed  all  chance  of  blame  ? 

Two  years  to  droop  behind  the  screen ; 

Two  years  unseeing,  and  unseen  ! 

No,  not  a  glance  in  all  that  time, 

Blooming  in  life's  luxurious  prime, 

Was  e'er  allowed  to  womankind ; 

Since,  but  to  household  faces  blind, 

She  must  at  home  her  vigils  keep, 

Her  business  still  to  groan  and  weep. 

And  Laili  weeps  ;  but  who  can  tell 

What  secrets  may  her  bosom  swell? 

The  beauteous  eyes  in  tears  may  swim, 


Laili  and  Majnun.  185 

The  heart  may  throb,  but  not  for  him 
Who  in  the  grave  unconscious  sleeps  — 
Alone  for  Majnun  Laili  weeps  ! 
Accustomed  hourly  to  rehearse 
Her  distant  lover's  glowing  verse, 
Framed  like  a  spell  to  charm  and  bless, 
And  soothe  her  heart's  extreme  distress. 
******* 
"  O  what  a  night !  a  long  and  dreary  night ! 
It  is  not  night,  but  darkness  without  end ; 
Awful  extinction  of  ethereal  light, 
Companionless  I  sit,  without  one  friend. 

"  Is  the  immortal  source  of  light  congealed  ? 

Or  has  the  dreadful  day  of  judgment  come  ? 
Nature's  fair  form  beneath  a  pall  concealed ; 

Oh  !  what  a  night  of  soul-destroying  gloom  ! 
Can  the  shrill  wakener  of  the  morn  be  dead  ? 

Is  the  Mowazzin  heedless  of  his  trust  ? 
Has  the  lone  warder  from  his  watch-tower  fled, 

Or,  weary  of  his  task,  returned  to  dust  ? 

"  O  God  !  restore  to  me  the  joyous  light 
Which  first  illumed  my  heart  — the  golden  ray 
Of  youthful  love  — that  from  this  prison,  night, 
I  may  escape  and  feel  the  bliss  of  day  ! " 

Years,  days,  how  slowly  they  roll  on  ! 
And  yet,  how  quickly  life  is  gone  ! 
The  future  soon  becomes  the  past  — 
Ceaseless  the  course  of  time.     At  last 


186  Ni^ami. 

The  morning  came ;  the  king  of  day 

Arose  in  festival  array, 

And  Laili's  night  had  passed  away : 

Her  morn  of  beauty  o'er  her  face, 

Shining,  resumed  its  wonted  grace ; 

And  with  soft  step  of  fairy  lightness 

She  moved,  a  glittering  moon  in  brightness. 

And  what  was  now  her  highest  aim  ? 

The  impulse  quivering  through  her  frame  ? 

Her  secret  love,  so  long  concealed, 

She  now  without  a  blush  revealed. 

And  first  she  called  her  faithful  Zyd, 

On  many  a  tender  mission  tried, 

In  whom  her  heart  could  best  confide  : 

"  To-day  is  not  the  day  of  hope, 

Which  only  gives  to  fancy  scope ; 

It  is  the  day  our  hopes  completing, 

It  is  the  lovers'  day  of  meeting  ! 

Rise  up  !  the  world  is  full  of  joy ; 

Rise  up  !  and  serve  thy  mistress,  boy ; 

Together,  where  the  cypress  grows, 

Place  the  red  tulip  and  the  rose ; 

And  let  the  long-dissevered  meet  — 

Two  lovers,  in  communion  sweet." 


Laili  and  Ma) nun.  187 


The  Lovers  Meet. 

They  meet;  but  how?  hearts  long  to  joy  unknown 
Know  not  what  'tis  to  be,  except  alone ; 
Feeling  intense  had  checked  the  power  to  speak ; 
Silent  confusion  sat  upon  each  cheek ; 
Speechless  with  love  unutterable,  they 
Stood  gazing  at  each  other  all  the  day. 
Thus  when  a  chamber  holds  no  golden  store, 
No  lock  protects  the  ever  open  door ; 
But  when  rich  hoards  of  gold  become  a  lure, 
A  lock  is  placed  to  keep  that  wealth  secure ; 
So  when  the  heart  is  full,  the  voice  is  bound  — 
For  ready  speech  with  grief  is  rarely  found. 
Laili,  with  looks  of  love,  was  first  who  caught 
The  soft  expression  of  her  bursting  thought : 
"  Alas  !  "  she  said,  as  over  him  she  hung, 
"  What  wondrous  grief  is  this  that  chains  the  tongue  ? 
The  bulbul,  famed  for  its  mellifluous  note, 
Without  the  rose  can  swell  his  tuneful  throat ; 
And  when  in  fragrant  bowers  the  rose  he  sees, 
He  warbles  sweeter  still  his  ecstasies. 
Thou  art  the  bulbul  of  the  bright  parterre, 
And  I  the  rose — why  not  thy  love  declare? 
Why,  being  absent,  whilst  unseen  by  thee, 
Arose  to  heaven  thy  voice  and  minstrelsy? 
And  now,  at  length,  when  we  are  met,  alone, 
Thy  love  has  vanished,  and  thy  voice  is  gone  !" 
A  gush  of  tears  to  Majnun  gave  relief: 


188  Ni{ami. 

Words  came  :  "The  misery  mine,  and  mine  the  grief: 

The  memory  of  those  lips,  so  balmy  sweet, 

Bound  up  my  tongue,  which  would  their  charms  repeat. 

When  I,  a  falcon,  through  the  woodlands  flew, 

The  spotted  partridge  never  met  my  view ; 

And  now  when  I'm  unequal  to  the  flight, 

The  long-sought  beauteous  bird  has  come  in  sight : 

The  substance  thou,  in  angel  charms  arrayed, 

And  what  am  I  ?     I  know  not  —  but  a  shade  ; 

Without  thee  nothing.     Fancy  would  enthrone 

Us  both  together,  melted  into  one ; 

And  thus  united  to  each  other,  we 

Are  equal  —  equal  in  our  constancy  : 

Two  bodies  with  one  heart  and  soul  the  same ; 

Two  tapers  with  one  pure  celestial  flame ; 

Of  the  same  essence  formed,  together  joined, 

Two  drops  in  one,  each  soul  to  each  resigned." 

He  paused,  and  with  ineffable  delight, 

Laili  gazed  on  his  glowing  countenance, 
So  long  estranged  and  hidden  from  her  sight. 

Now  throbs  his  heart  at  every  fondling  glance  : 
The  fragrance  of  her  ringlets  which  enwreath 
Her  smooth  round  neck,  her  jasmine-scented  breath, 
The  sweet  confession  of  her  tremulous  eyes, 
The  ardent  love  which  time  and  chance  defies, 
The  chin  of  dimpled  sweetness,  the  soft  cheek, 
The  open  ruby  lips  prepared  to  speak, 
Madden  his  finer  feelings,  and  again 
A  sudden  tempest  rushes  through  his  brain ; 
Furious  he  gazes  round  him  for  a  while, 


Laili  and  Majnun.  189 

Then  looks  at  Laili  with  a  ghastly  smile ; 
Rends  off  his  Jama-dress  in  frantic  mood, 
Starts,  as  with  more  than  human  force  endued, 
And,  shouting,  hurries  to  the  desert  plain, 
Followed  by  all  his  savage  vassal  train. 


Laili  Dies. 

His  love  was  chaste  and  pure  as  heaven : 

But  by  excess  to  madness  driven, 

Visions  of  rapture  filled  his  soul ; 

His  thoughts  sublime  despised  control ; 

A  joy  allied  to  joys  above 

Was  mingled  with  his  dreamy  love : 

O  Majnun  !  lost,  forever  gone  ; 

The  world  is  full  of  love,  but  none, 

None  ever  bowed  at  beauty's  shrine 

With  such  a  sinless  soul  as  thine. 

******* 

In  summer  all  is  bright  and  gay ; 

In  autumn  verdure  fades  away, 

The  trees  assume  a  sickly  hue, 

Unnourished  by  the  fragrant  dew ; 

The  genial  sap,  through  numerous  rills, 

From  root  and  branch  and  leaf  distils ; 

But,  drying  in  the  chilly  air, 

The  groves  become  despoiled  and  bare ; 

Sapless,  the  garden's  flowery  pride 


190  Ni{ami. 

The  winds  disperse  on  every  side, 

And  all  that  sight  and  smell  delighted 

Is  by  the  ruthless  season  blighted. 

So  Laili's  summer  hours  have  passed; 

And  now  she  feels  the  autumnal  blast ; 

Her  bowers,  her  blooming  bowers,  assailed, 

The  perfume  of  the  rose  exhaled, 

Its  withered  leaves  bestrew  the  ground, 

And  desolation  reigns  around  : 

For  from  the  moment  she  beheld 

Her  lover's  mental  state  unveiled, 

Her  heart  no  consolation  knew, 

Deprived  of  hope's  refreshing  dew. 

Ere  that  o'erwhelming  misery  came, 

Thoughts  of  new  life  upheld  her  frame  : 

Amidst  her  bitterest  weeping  and  distress, 

Mid  the  dark  broodings  of  her  loneliness, 

Though  crushed  her  feelings,  and  the  man  she  loved 

A  wanderer  of  the  forest,  strangely  moved, 

Still  was  there  hope,  still  was  her  mental  gaze 

Fixed  on  the  expected  joys  of  after-days. 

But  now  all  hope  had  perished  !  —  she  had  seen 

The  frenzied  workings  of  that  noble  mien  : 

The  fit  delirious,  the  appalling  start, 

And  grief  and  terror  seized  her  trembling  heart. 

No  tears  she  sheds,  but  pines 1  away 


1  Nizami  is  here  rather  undignified,  but  only,  perhaps,  according 
to  our  European  notions.  Literally,  That  beautiful  cypress  tree 
became  as  thin  as  a  toothpick!  "  As  slender  as  the  new  moon"  is 
the  usual  simile. 


Laili  and  Majnun.  191 

In  deep  entire  despair  ; 
The  worm  has  seized  its  destined  prey, 

The  blight  is  on  that  face  so  fair, 
And  fearful  symptoms  of  a  swift  decay 
Come  o'er  her  delicate  frame,  that  in  the  strife 
She  almost  sinks  beneath  the  load  of  life. 
Feeling  the  ebbing  of  the  vital  tide, 
She  calls  her  weeping  mother  to  her  side. 
"  Mother  !  my  hour  is  come,  thou  need'st  no  longer 

chide ; 
For  now  no  longer  can  my  heart  conceal 
What  once  'twas  useless  to  reveal ; 
Yet,  spite  of  thy  affection,  thou 
Mayst  blame  my  fatal  passion  now. 
But  I  have  in  my  rapture  quaffed 
Poison  in  love's  delicious  draught ; 
And  feel  the  agony  which  sears 
The  soul,  and  dries  the  source  of  tears. 
O  mother  !  mother  !  all  I  crave, 
When  I  am  pillowed  in  my  grave, 
Is  that  the  anguish-stricken  youth, 
Whose  wondrous  constancy  and  truth 
Blended  our  souls  in  one,  may  come 
And  weep  upon  his  Laili's  tomb. 
Forbid  him  not ;  but  let  him  there 
Pour  forth  the  flood  of  his  despair, 
And  no  unhallowed  step  intrude 
Upon  his  sacred  solitude. 
For  he  to  me,  my  life,  my  stay, 
Was  precious  as  the  light  of  day. 


192  Niyimu 

Amazing  was  his  love,  sublime, 

Which  mocked  the  wonted  power  of  time; 

And  when  thou  seest  him  grovelling  near, 

Wildly  lamenting  o'er  my  bier, 

Frown  not,  but  kindly,  soothingly  relate 

Whate'er  thou  knowest  of  my  disastrous  fate. 

Say  to  that  woe-worn  wanderer,  — '  All  is  o'er  ; 

Laili,  thy  own  sad  friend,  is  now  no  more ; 

From  this  world's  heavy  chains  forever  free, 

To  thee  her  heart  was  given  —  she  died  for  thee ! 

With  love  so  blended  was  her  life,  so  true 

That  glowing  love,  no  other  joy  she  knew. 

No  worldly  cares  her  thoughts  had  e'er  oppressed  ; 

The  love  of  thee  alone  disturbed  her  rest ; 

And  in  that  love  her  gentle  spirit  passed, 

Breathing  on  thee  her  blessing  to  the  last.'  " 

The  mournful  mother  gazed  upon  her  child, 
Now  voiceless  —  though  her  lips  imploring  smiled  ; 
Saw  the  dread  change,  the  sudden  pause  of  breath  — 
Her  beauty  settled  in  the  trance  of  death  ; ] 
And,  in  the  frenzy  of  her  anguish,  tore 
Her  hoary  locks,  the  'broidered  dress  she  wore ; 
Dissolved  in  tears,  her  wild  and  sorrowing  cries 
Brought  down  compassion  from  the  weeping  skies ; 

1  Richardson  has  observed,  in  the  dissertation  prefixed  to  his 
Arabic  and  Persian  dictionary:  "Dying  for  love  is  considered 
among  us  as  a  mere  poetic  figure;  and  we  certainly  can  support 
the  reality  by  few  examples;  but  in  Eastern  countries  it  seems  to  be 
something  more  ;  many  words  in  the  Arabic  and  Persian  languages, 
which  express  love,  implying  also  melancholy,  madness,  and  death." 
Majnun,  for  instance,  signifies  furious,  frantic,  mad. 


Laili  and  Majnun.  \% 

And  so  intense  her  grief,  she  shivering  fell 

Prostrate  upon  the  corse,  insensible, 

And  never,  never  rose  again  —  the  thread 

Of  life  was  broke  —  both,  clasped  together,  dead  ! 


Majnun  Dies. 

O  world  !  how  treacherous  thou  art ! 

With  angel  form  and  demon's  heart; 

A  rosary  of  beads  in  hand, 

And,  covertly,  a  trenchant  brand. 

The  rolling  heavens  with  azure  glow, 

But  storms  o'erwhelm  our  hopes  below  ; 

The  ship  is  tossed  upon  the  shore, 

The  wanderer  meets  his  friends  no  more  ; 

On  flowery  field,  or  boisterous  wave, 

Alike  is  found  a  yawning  grave ; 

For  formless,  riding  through  the  air, 

Devouring  death  is  everywhere  ; 

Khosru,  and  Kai-kobad,  and  Jum, 

Have  all  descended  to  the  tomb ; 

And  who,  composed  of  mortal  clay, 

The  universal  doom  can  stay? 

For  this,  in  vain,  have  youth  and  age 

Pondered  o'er  learning's  mystic  page ; 

No  human  power  can  penetrate 

The  mysteries  of  all-ruling  fate  ; 

Frail  life  is  but  a  moment's  breath ; 

The  world,  alas  !  is  full  of  death. 


194  Ni%ami. 

How  many  wept  that  fair  one,  gone  so  soon  ! 
How  many  wept  o'er  that  departed  moon  !  — 
How  many  mourned  with  broken  hearts  for  her  ! 
How  many  bathed  with  tears  her  sepulchre  ! 
Round  her  pure  dust  assembled  old  and  young, 
And  on  the  sod  their  fragrant  offerings  flung  ; 
Hallowed  the  spot  where  amorous  youth  and  maid 
In  after-times  their  duteous  homage  paid. 

Again  it  was  the  task  of  faithful  Zyd, 
Through  far- extending  plain  and  forest  wide, 
To  seek  the  man  of  many  woes,  and  tell 
The  fate  of  her,  alas  !  he  loved  so  well, 
Loved,  doted  on,  until  his  mind,  o'erwrought 
Was  crushed  beneath  intolerable  thought. 

—  With  bleeding  heart  he  found  his  lone  abode, 

Watering  with  tears  the  path  on  which  he  rode, 

And  beating  his  sad  breast,  Majnun  perceived 

His  friend  approach,  and  asked  him  why  he  grieved ; 

What  withering  sorrow  on  his  cheek  had  preyed, 

And  why  in  melancholy  black  l  arrayed. 

"  Alas  !  "  he  cried,  "  the  hail  has  crushed  my  bowers  ; 

A  sudden  storm  has  blighted  all  my  flowers ; 

Thy  cypress  tree  o'erthrown,  the  leaves  are  sear ; 

The  moon  has  fallen  from  her  lucid  sphere  ; 

Laili  is  dead  !  "     No  sooner  was  the  word 

Uttered,  no  sooner  the  dread  tidings  heard, 

1  Literally,  Why  hast  thou  put  on  a  black  upper-garment  ?     The 
usual  mourning  of  Mohammedans  is  green. 


Laili  and  Majnun.  195 

Than  Majnun,  sudden  as  the  lightning's  stroke 

Sank  on  the  ground,  unconscious,  with  the  shock, 

And  there  lay  motionless,  as  if  his  life 

Had  been  extinguished  in  that  mortal  strife. 

But,  soon  recovering,  he  prepared  to  rise, 

Revvakened  frenzy  glaring  in  his  eyes, 

And,  starting  on  his  feet,  a  hollow  groan 

Burst  from  his  heart.     "  Now,  now,  I  am  alone  ! 

Why  hast  thou  harrowing  words  like  these  expressed? 

Why  hast  thou  plunged  a  dagger  in  my  breast  ? 

Away  !  away  !  "     The  savage  beasts  around, 

In  a  wide  circle  crouched  upon  the  ground, 

Wondering  looked  on,  whilst  furiously  he  rent 

His  tattered  garments,  and  his  loud  lament 

Rang  through  the  echoing  forest.     Now  he  threads 

The  mazes  of  the  shadowy  wood,  which  spreads 

Perpetual  gloom,  and  now  emerges  where 

N.or  bower  nor  grove  obstructs  the  fiery  air ; 

Climbs  to  the  mountain's  brow,  o'er  hill  and  plain 

Urged  quicker  onward  by  his  burning  brain, 

Across  the  desert's  arid  boundary  hies ; 

Zyd,  like  his  shadow,  following  where  he  flies ; 

And  when  the  tomb  of  Laili  meets  his  view, 

Prostrate  he  falls,  the  ground  his  tears  bedew ; 

Rolling  distraught,  he  spreads  his  arm  to  clasp 

The  sacred  temple,  writhing  like  an  asp  : 

Despair  and  horror  swell  his  ceaseless  moan, 

And  still  he  clasps  the  monumental  stone. 

"  Alas  !  "  he  cries  —  "  No  more  shall  I  behold 

That  angel  face,  that  form  of  heavenly  mould. 


196  Ni{timi. 

She  was  the  rose  I  cherished —  but  a  gust 

Of  blighting  wind  has  laid  her  in  the  dust. 

She  was  my  favorite  cypress,  full  of  grace, 

But  death  has  snatched  her  from  her  biding-place. 

The  tyrant  has  deprived  me  of  the  flower 

I  planted  in  my  own  sequestered  bovver ; 

The  basil  sweet,  the  choicest  ever  seen, 

Cruelly  torn  and  scattered  o'er  the  green. 

O  beauteous  flower  !  nipped  by  the  winter's  cold, 

Gone  from  a  world  thou  never  didst  behold. 

O  bower  of  joy  !  with  blossoms  fresh  and  fair, 

But  doomed,  alas  !  no  ripened  fruit  to  bear. 

Where  shall  I  find  thee  now,  in  darkness  shrouded  ! 

Those  eyes  of  liquid  light  forever  clouded  ! 

Where  those  carnation  lips,  that  musky  mole 

Upon  thy  cheek,  that  treasure  of  the  soul ! 

Though  hidden  from  my  view  those  charms  of  thine, 

Still  do  they  bloom  in  this  fond  heart  of  mine ; 

Though  far  removed  from  all  I  held  so  dear, 

Though  all  I  loved  on  earth  be  buried  here, 

Remembrance  to  the  past  enchantment  gives, 

Memory,  blest  memory,  in  my  heart  still  lives. 

Yes  !  thou  hast  quitted  this  contentious  life, 

This  scene  of  endless  treachery  and  strife ; 

And  I  like  thee  shall  soon  my  fetters  burst, 

And  quench  in  draughts  of  heavenly  love  my  thirst : 

There,  where  angelic  bliss  can  never  cloy, 

We  soon  shall  meet  in  everlasting  joy  ; 

The  taper  of  our  souls,  more  clear  and  bright, 

Will  then  be  lustrous  with  immortal  light !  " 


La  Hi  ami  Majnun.  197 

He  ceased,  and  from  the  tomb  to  which  he  clung 
Suddenly  to  a  distance  wildly  sprung, 
And,  seated  on  his  camel,  took  the  way 
Leading  to  where  his  father's  mansion  lay ; 
His  troop  of  vassal  beasts,  as  usual,  near, 
With  still  unchanged  devotion,  front  and  rear ; 
Yet,  all  unconscious,  reckless  where  he  went ; 
The  sport  of  passion,  on  no  purpose  bent, 
He  sped  along,  or  stopped  ;  the  woods  and  plains 
Resounding  with  his  melancholy  strains  ; 
Such  strains  as  from  a  broken  spirit  flow, 
The  wailings  of  unmitigable  woe  ; 
But  the  same  frenzy  which  had  fired  his  mind 
Strangely  to  leave  his  Laili's  grave  behind, 
Now  drove  him  back,  and  with  augmented  grief, 
All  sighs  and  tears,  and  hopeless  of  relief, 
He  flings  himself  upon  the  tomb  again, 
As  if  he  there  forever  would  remain 
Fatally  mingled  with  the  dust  beneath, 
The  young,  the  pure,  the  beautiful  in  death. 
Closely  he  strained  the  marble  to  his  breast, 
A  thousand  kisses  eagerly  impressed, 
And  knocked  his  forehead  in  such  desperate  mood, 
The  place  around  him  was  distained  with  blood. 

Alone,  unseen ;  his  vassals  keep  remote 
Curious  intruders  from  that  sacred  spot ; 
Alone,  with  wasted  form  and  sombre  eyes, 
Groaning  in  anguish  he  exhausted  lies  ; 
No  more  life's  joys  or  miseries  will  he  meet, 
Nothing  to  rouse  him  from  this  last  retreat ; 


198  Ni{ai/ii. 

Upon  a  sinking  gravestone  he  is  laid, 
The  gates  already  opening  for  the  dead  ! 

Selim,  the  generous,  who  had  twice  before 
Sought  his  romantic  refuge,  to  implore 
The  wanderer  to  renounce  the  life  he  led, 
And  shun  the  ruin  bursting  o'er  his  head, 
Again  explored  the  wilderness,  again 
Crossed  craggy  rock,  deep  glen,  and  dusty  plain, 
To  find  his  new  abode.     A  month  had  passed 
Mid  mountain  wild,  when,  turning  back,  at  last 
He  spied  the  wretched  sufferer  alone, 
Stretched  on  the  ground,  his  head  upon  a  stone. 
Majnun,  up-gazing,  recognized  his  face, 
And  bade  his  growling  followers  give  him  place ; 
Then  said  :  "  Why  art  thou  here  again,  since  thou 
Left  me  in  wrath  ?     What  are  thy  wishes  now  ? 
I  am  a  wretch  bowed  down  with  bitterest  woe, 
Doomed  the  extremes  of  misery  to  know, 
Whilst  thou,  in  affluence  born,  in  pleasure  nursed, 
Stranger  to  ills  the  direst  and  the  worst, 
Can  never  join,  unless  in  mockery, 
With  one  so  lost  to  all  the  world  as  me  ! " 
Selim  replied  :  "  Fain  would  I  change  thy  will, 
And  bear  thee  hence,  —  be  thy  companion  still : 
Wealth  shall  be  thine,  and  peace  and  social  joy, 
And  tranquil  days,  no  sorrow  to  annoy ; 
And  she  for  whom  thy  soul  has  yearned  so  long 
May  yet  be  gained,  and  none  shall  do  thee  wrong." 
—  Deeply  he  groaned,  and  wept :  "  No  more,  no  more  ! 
Speak  not  of  her  whose  memory  I  adore ; 


Laili  and  Majnun.  199 

She  whom  I  loved,  than  life  itself  more  dear, 
My  friend,  my  angel  bride,  is  buried  here  ! 
Dead  !  —  but  her  spirit's  now  in  heaven,  whilst  I 
Live,  and  am  dead  with  grief — yet  do  not  die. 
This  is  the  fatal  spot,  my  Laili's  tomb,  — 
This  the  lamented  place  of  martyrdom. 
Here  lies  my  life's  sole  treasure,  life's  sole  trust ; 
All  that  was  bright  in  beauty  gone  to  dust ! " 

Selim  before  him  in  amazement  stood, 
Stricken  with  anguish,  weeping  tears  of  blood  ; 
And  consolation  blandly  tried  to  give. 
What  consolation  ?     Make  his  Laili  live  ? 
His  gentle  words  and  looks  were  only  found 
To  aggravate  the  agonizing  wound ; 
And  weeks  in  fruitless  sympathy  had  passed, 
But,  patient  still,  he  lingered  to  the  last ; 
Then,  with  an  anxious  heart,  of  hope  bereft, 
The  melancholy  spot,  reluctant,  left. 

The  life  of  Majnun  had  received  its  blight ; 
His  troubled  day  was  closing  fast  in  night. 
Still  weeping,  bitter,  bitter  tears  he  shed, 
As  grovelling  in  the  dust  his  hands  he  spread 
In  holy  prayer.     "  O  God  !  Thy  servant  hear  ! 

And  in  Thy  gracious  mercy  set  him  free 
From  the  afflictions  which  oppress  him  here. 

That,  in  the  Prophet's  name,  he  may  return  to  Thee  !" 
Thus  murmuring  on  the  tomb  he  laid  his  head, 
And  with  a  sigh  his  wearied  spirit  fled. 

******* 
And  he,  too,  has  performed  his  pilgrimage. 


200  Ni{ami. 

And  who,  existing  on  this  earthly  stage, 

But  follows  the  same  path  ?  whate'er  his  claim 

To  virtue,  honor,  —  worthy  praise,  or  blame  ; 

So  will  he  answer  at  the  judgment  throne, 

Where  secrets  are  unveiled,  and  all  things  known ; 

Where  felon  deeds  of  darkness  meet  the  light, 

And  goodness  wears  its  crown  with  glory  bright. 

Majnun,  removed  from  this  tumultuous  scene, 

Which  had  to  him  unceasing  misery  been, 

At  length  slept  on  the  couch  his  bride  possessed, 

And,  wakening,  saw  her  mingled  with  the  blessed. 

There  still  lay  stretched  his  body,  many  a  day, 

Protected  by  his  faithful  beasts  of  prey ; 

Whose  presence  filled  with  terror  all  around, 

Who  sought  to  know  where  Majnun  might  be  found  : 

Listening  they  heard  low  murmurs  on  the  breeze, 

Now  loud  and  mournful,  like  the  hum  of  bees ; 

But  still  supposed  him  seated  in  his  place, 

Watched  by  those  sentinels  of  the  savage  race. 

—  A    year    had    passed,    and    still   their   watch    they 

kept, 
As  if  their  sovereign  was  not  dead,  but  slept : 
Some  had  been  called  away,  and  some  had  died  — 
At  last  the  smouldering  relics  were  descried ; 
And  when  the  truth  had  caught  the  breath  of  fame, 
Assembled  friends  from  every  quarter  came ; 
Weeping,  they  washed  his  bones,  now  silvery  white, 
With  ceaseless  tears  performed  the  funeral  rite, 
And.  opening  the  incumbent  tablet  wide, 
Mournfully  laid  him  by  his  Laili's  side. 


Laili  and  Majnun.  201 

One  promise  bound  their  faithful  hearts  —  one  bed 
Of  cold,  cold  earth  united  them  when  dead. 
Severed  in  life,  how  cruel  was  their  doom  ! 
Ne'er  to  be  joined  but  in  the  silent  tomb  ! 

The  minstrel's  legend  chronicle 

Which  on  their  woes  delights  to  dwell, 

Their  matchless  purity  and  faith, 

And  how  their  dust  was  mixed  in  death, 

Tells  how  the  sorrow-stricken  Zyd 

Saw,  in  a  dream,  the  beauteous  bride, 

With  Majnun,  seated  side  by  side. 

In  meditation  deep,  one  night, 

The  other  world  flashed  on  his  sight 

With  endless  vistas  of  delight  — 

The  world  of  spirits  ;  —  as  he  lay 

Angels  appeared  in  bright  array, 

Circles  of  glory  round  them  gleaming, 

Their  eyes  with  holy  rapture  beaming ; 

He  saw  the  ever  verdant  bovvers, 

With  golden  fruit  and  blooming  flowers; 

The  bulbul  heard,  their  sweets  among, 

Warbling  his  rich  mellifluous  song ; 

The  ring-dove's  murmuring,  and  the  swell 

Of  melody  from  harp  and  shell : 

He  saw  within  a  rosy  glade, 

Beneath  a  palm's  extensive  shade, 

A  throne,  amazing  to  behold, 

Studded  with  glittering  gems  and  gold ; 

Celestial  carpets  near  it  spread 


202  Ni^ami. 

Close  where  a  lucid  streamlet  strayed ; 
Upon  that  throne,  in  blissful  state, 
The  long-divided  lovers  sate, 
Resplendent  with  seraphic  light :  — 
They  held  a  cup,  with  diamonds  bright ; 
Their  lips,  by  turns,  with  nectar  wet, 
In  pure  ambrosial  kisses  met ; 
Sometimes  to  each  their  thoughts  revealing, 
Each  clasping  each  with  tenderest  feeling. 
—  The  dreamer  who  this  vision  saw 
Demanded,  with  becoming  awe, 
What  sacred  names  the  happy  pair 
In  Irem-bowers  were  wont  to  bear. 
A  voice  replied  :  "  That  sparkling  moon 
Is  Laili  still  —  her  friend,  Majnun  ; 
Deprived  in  your  frail  world  of  bliss, 
They  reap  their  great  reward  in  this  !  " 

Zyd,  wakening  from  his  wondrous  dream, 
Now  dwelt  upon  the  mystic  theme, 
And  told  to  all  how  faithful  love 
Receives  its  recompense  above. 

O  ye,  who  thoughtlessly  repose 
On  what  this  flattering  world  bestows, 
Reflect  how  transient  is  your  stay  ! 
How  soon  e'en  sorrows  fade  away  ! 
The  pangs  of  grief  the  heart  may  wring 
In  life,  but  Heaven  removes  the  sting ; 
The  world  to  come  makes  bliss  secure,  — 
The  world  to  come,  eternal,  pure. 


Laili  and  Majnun.  203 

What  other  solace  for  the  human  soul, 

But  everlasting  rest  —  virtue's  unvarying  goal  ! 

Saki  !  Nizami's  strain  is  sung  ; 

The  Persian  poet's  pearls  are  strung  ; 
Then  fill  again  the  goblet  high  ! 
Thou  wouldst  not  ask  the  reveller  why  ? 
Fill  to  the  love  that  changes  never  ! 
Fill  to  the  love  that  lives  forever ! 
That,  purified  by  earthly  woes, 
At  last  with  bliss  seraphic  glows. 


RUMI. 

Jelalu-'d-Din,  the  greatest  mystical  poet  of  any  age,  was 
born  at  Balkh,  in  1207  a.d.,  and  was  of  an  illustrious  de- 
scent. His  mother  was  of  a  princely  house ;  his  father, 
Bahau-'d-Din  Veled,  was  a  descendant  of  the  Kalif  Abu 
Bekr,  and  excited  the  jealousy  of  the  Sultan,1  who  made  it 
so  unpleasant  for  him  that  he  left  the  city,  taking  with  him 
his  family,  the  youngest  of  whom  was  Jelalu-1d-Din,  then 
five  years  old.  At  Naishapur  they  met  the  Sufi  saint, 
Attar,  who  predicted  the  child's  future  greatness.  "  He 
would,"  he  said,  "kindle  the  fire  of  divine  enthusiasm 
throughout  the  world,"2  for  even  as  a  child  Rumi  had 
visions  and  religious  ecstasies. 

For  years  these  fugitives  travelled  extensively  through 
the  East,  and  while  in  Larenda,  in  Asia  Minor,  then  called 
Rum,  Jelalu  married.  This  was  in  1226  a.d.,  and  after 
visiting  Samarcand  and  Constantinople,  the  family  finally 
settled  in  Oonia,  or  Konia  (the  ancient  Iconium  of  the 
New  Testament).  Konia  is  in  the  old  Roman  province 
of  Galatia,  hence  Jelalu's  name  of  Rumi,  or  the  "  Roman." 
Here  the  poet's  father  founded  a  college  and  here  he  died 
in  1 23 1.  After  his  father's  death,  Rumi,  already  a  great 
student  under  his  father's  careful  tuition,  studied  at  Aleppo 
and  Damascus,  where  he  acquired  a  well-deserved  reputa- 
tion for  learning.  On  his  return  to  Konia  he  was  pro- 
fessor of  four  different  colleges,  and  received  the  title  of 
Sultan-al-Ulema,  or  "  Chief  and  Ruler  of  the  Learned." 

Among   his   spiritual    advisers    was    Shamsi-'d-Din    of 

1  Sultan  Muhammad,  surnamed  Kutb-ud-Din  of  Kharezm. 

2  Ouseley's  Persian  Poets. 

204 


Rumu  205 

Tabriz,  who  gained  such  an  influence  over  the  poet  that 
Rumi  adopted  his  name  as  his  takhallus,  or  poetical  notn 
de  plume,  under  which  he  wrote  his  Divan  or  lyrical 
odes.  The  people  of  Konia,  disliking  the  somewhat  ag- 
gressive characteristics  of  Shamsi,  rose  up  against  him, 
and  in  the  riot  which  followed  Rumi's  eldest  son  was  killed  ; 
and  Shamsi  must  have  been  executed,  for  he  was  never 
seen  again.  These  tragic  events  caused  Rumi  such  mel- 
ancholy that  he  renounced  the  world  and  founded  the 
famous  order  of  Dervishes  called  the  "  Maulavis.11  This 
order  was  noted  for  its  piety,  mystic  dances,  and  its  music 
and  songs,  making  use  of  such  instruments  as  the  flute, 
drum,  tambourine ;  and  its  members  also  wore  a  peculiar 
mourning  costume.  The  Masnavi,  Rumi's  great  mystic 
poem,  is  said  to  have  been  written  by  him  at  the  sugges- 
tion of  an  admiring  disciple  for  the  spiritual  benefit  of  his 
order,  whose  cloisters  are  found  throughout  the  Turkish 
Empire. 

Rumi  died  at  Konia,  December  17,  1273,  and  was  buried 
in  his  father's  mausoleum  at  Konia.  His  son  succeeded 
him  as  the  head  of  the  "  Maulavis,11  the  leadership  of  which 
has  been  kept  in  the  poefs  family  for  six  hundred  years. 
The  dying  instructions  of  Rumi  to  his  son  were  as 
follows  :  — 

"  My  testament  is  this :  that  ye  be  pious  toward  God, 
in  private  and  in  public ;  that  ye  eat  little,  sleep  little, 
speak  little ;  —  that  ye  depart  from  wickedness  and  sin  ; 
that  ye  continue  instant  in  fasting,  and  steadfast  in  vigi- 
lance ;  that  ye  flee  from  carnal  lusts  with  all  your  might ; 
that  ye  endure  patiently  the  contumely  of  the  world ; 
that  ye  shun  the  company  of  the  base  and  foolish,  and 
consort  with  the  noble-hearted  and  the  pious.  Verily  the 
best  man  is  he  who  doeth  good  to  men,  and  the  best 
speech  is  that  which  is  short  and  guideth  men  aright. 
Praise  be  to  God  who  is  the  Only  God.11 

These  precepts  were  the  basis  of  Rumi's  life,  judging  by 


206  Rumi. 

the  nature  of  the  work  he  left  behind  him.  His  Mas- 
navz,  upon  which  his  literary  fame  rests,  is  composed  of 
twenty-six  thousand  couplets  arranged  in  six  parts,  or 
books,  dealing  with  Sufi  philosophy  in  a  series  of  stories 
having  spiritual  maxims  and  interpretations  ;  certain  parts 
of  these  have  been  compared  to  the  Books  of  Proverbs, 
Ecclesiastes,  and  the  Songs  of  Solomon.  As  Dante's 
poem  has  been  called  the  Divina,  so  in  India  the  Mas- 
navi  is  called  the  Ma'navi,  or  "  Spiritual  "  ;  for  it  seems  to 
have  for  its  main  object  the  teaching  of  the  "  fatherhood 
of  God  "  and  the  explanation  of  the  origin  of  evil.  These 
subjects  are  approached  on  the  moral  side  through  the 
principle  of  love ;  believing  that  the  more  a  man  loves  the 
more  able  he  is  to  understand  the  divine  purposes. 

The  "  song  of  the  reed  "  is  thought  to  signify  the  soul's 
love  for  God,  and  its  longing  to  be  reunited  with  Him. 
At  all  events  it  is  the  keynote  of  the  celebrated  Masnavi. 
Among  the  numerous  forms  to  describe  this  union  of  God 
and  man  Rumi  uses  the  following  exquisite  apologue : 
"  There  came  one  and  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  Beloved. 
And  a  voice  answered  and  said,  'Who  is  there?1  The 
lover  replied,  'It  is  I.1  'Go  hence,'  returned  the  voice, 
'there  is  no  room  within  for  thee  and  me.1  Then  came 
the  lover  a  second  time  and  knocked,  and  again  the  voice 
demanded,  'Who  is  there?1  He  answered, '  It  is  thou.1 
'Enter,1  said  the  voice,  'for  I  am  within.111 


The  Masnavu  207 

THE   MASNAVI.1 

BOOK  I. 

"Song  of  the  Reed."2 

Hearken  to  the  reed-flute,  how  it  discourses 
When  complaining  of  the  pains  of  separation  — 

"  Ever  since  they  tore  me  from  my  osier  bed, 
My  plaintive  notes  have  moved  men  and  women  to  tears. 
I  burst  my  breast,  striving  to  give  vent  to  sighs, 
And  to  express  the  pangs  of  my  yearning  for  my  home. 
He  who  abides  far  away  from  his  home 
Is  ever  longing  for  the  day  he  shall  return. 
My  wailing  is  heard  in  every  throng, 
In  concert  with  them  that  rejoice  and  them  that  weep. 
Each  interprets  my  notes  in  harmony  with  his  own 

feelings, 
But  not  one  fathoms  the  secrets  of  my  heart. 
My  secrets  are  not  alien  from  my  plaintive  notes, 
Yet  they  are  not  manifest  to  the  sensual  ear. 
Body  is  not  veiled  from  soul,  neither  soul  from  body, 
Yet  no  man  hath  ever  seen  a  soul." 

This  plaint  of  the  flute  is  fire,  not  mere  air. 
Let  him  who  lacks  this  fire  be  accounted  dead  ! 
'Tis  the  fire  of  love  that  inspires  the  flute,3 
Tis  the  ferment  of  love  that  possesses  the  wine. 


1  Translated  by  Mr.  E.  H.  Whinfield. 

2  The  late  Professor  Palmer  so  called  it. 

3  Love  signifies  the  strong  attraction  that  draws  all  creatures  back 
to  reunion  with  their  creator. 


208  Rumu 

The  flute  is  the  confidant  of  all  unhappy  lovers ; 
Yea,  its  strains  lay  bare  my  inmost  secrets. 
Who  hath  seen  a  poison  and  an  antidote  like  the  flute  r 
Who  hath  seen  a  sympathetic  consoler  like  the  flute  ? 
The  flute  tells  the  tale  of  love's  blood-stained  path, 
It  recounts  the  story  of  Majnun's  love  toils. 
None  is  privy  to  these  feelings  save  one  distracted, 
As  ear  inclines  to  the  whispers  of  the  tongue. 
Through  grief  my  days  are  as  labor  and  sorrow, 
My  days  move  on,  hand  in  hand  with  anguish. 
Yet,  though  my  days  vanish  thus,  'tis  no  matter, 
Do  thou  abide,  O  Incomparable  Pure  One  ! 1 

But  all  who  are  not  fishes  are  soon  tired  of  water ; 
And  they  who  lack  daily  bread  find  the  day  very  long  ; 
So  the    "  Raw "    comprehend   not   the   state   of  the 

"Ripe;"2 
Therefore  it  behooves  me  to  shorten  my  discourse. 

Arise,  O  son  !  burst  thy  bonds  and  be  free  ! 
How  long  wilt  thou  be  captive  to  silver  and  gold  ? 
Though  thou  pour  the  ocean  into  thy  pitcher, 
It  can  hold  no  more  than  one  day's  store. 
The  pitcher  of  the  desire  of  the  covetous  never  fills, 
The  oyster-shell  fills  not  with  pearls  till  it  is  content ; 
Only  he  whose  garment  is  rent  by  the  violence  of  love 
Is  wholly  pure  from  covetousness  and  sin. 

Hail  to  thee,  then,  O  LOVE,  sweet  madness  ! 


1  Self-annihilation  leads  to   eternal   life  in  God  —  the  universal 
Noumenon,  by  whom  all  phenomena  subsist. 

2  "Raw"  and  "Ripe"  are  terms  for  "Men  of  Externals"  and 
"  Men  of  heart "  or  Mvstics. 


The  Masnavi.  209 

Thou  who  healest  all  our  infirmities  ! 

Who  art  the  physician  of  our  pride  and  self-conceit ! 

Who  art  our  Plato  and  our  Galen  ! 

Love  exalts  our  earthly  bodies  to  heaven, 

And  makes  the  very  hills  to  dance  with  joy  ! 

0  lover,  'twas  love  that  gave  life  to  Mount  Sinai, 
When  "  it  quaked,  and  Moses  fell  down  in  a  swoon."  l 
Did  my  Beloved  only  touch  me  with  his  lips, 

1  too,  like  the  flute,  would  burst  out  in  melody. 

But  he  who  is  parted  from  them  that  speak  his  tongue, 
Though  he  possess  a  hundred  voices,  is  perforce  dumb. 
When  the  rose  has  faded  and  the  garden  is  withered, 
The  song  of  the  nightingale  is  no  longer  to  be  heard. 
The  Beloved  is  all  in  all,  the  lover  only  veils  Him ; 2 
The  Beloved  is  all  that  lives,  the  lover  a  dead  thing. 
When  the  lover  feels  no  longer  Love's  quickening, 
He  becomes  like  a  bird  who  has  lost  its  wings.    Alas  ! 
How  can  I  retain  my  senses  about  me, 
When  the  Beloved  shows  not  the  light  of  His  counte- 
nance ? 
Love  desires  that  this  secret  should  be  revealed, 
For  if  a  mirror  reflects  not,  of  what  use  is  it  ? 
Knowest  thou  why  thy  mirror  reflects  not? 
Because  the  rust  has  not  been  scoured  from  its  face. 
If  it  were  purified  from  all  rust  and  defilement, 
It  would  reflect  the  shining  of  the  Sun  of  God. 

1  Alluding  to  the  giving  of  the  law  on  Mount  Sinai.    Koran  vii.,  139. 

2  All  phenomenal  existences  (man  included)  are  but  "veils" 
obscuring  the  face  of  the  Divine  Noumenon,  the  only  real  existence, 
and  the  moment  His  sustaining  presence  is  withdrawn,  they  at  once 
relapse  into  their  original  nothingness. 


210  Rumi. 

O  friends,  ye  have  now  heard  this  tale, 
Which  sets  forth  the  very  essence  of  my  case. 

Laili  and  the  Khalifa. 

The  Khalifa  said  to  Laili,  "  Art  thou  really  she 
For  whom  Majnun  lost  his  head  and  went  distracted? 
Thou  art  not  fairer  than  many  other  fair  ones." 
She  replied,  "  Be  silent ;  thou  art  no  Majnun  !  " 

If  thou  hadst  Majnun's  eyes, 
The  two  worlds  would  be  within  thy  view. 
Thou  art  in  thy  senses,  but  Majnun  is  beside  himself. 
In  love  to  be  wide  awake  is  treason. 
The  more  a  man  is  awake,  the  more  he  sleeps  (to  love) ; 
His  (critical)  wakefulness  is  worse  than  slumbering. 

Our  wakefulness  fetters  our  spirits, 
Then  our  souls  are  a  prey  to  divers  whims, 
Thoughts  of  loss  and  gain  and  fears  of  misery. 
They  retain  not  purity,  nor  dignity,  nor  lustre, 
Nor  aspiration  to  soar  heavenward. 
That  one  is  really  sleeping  who  hankers  after  each  whim 
And  holds  parley  with  each  fancy. 

Omar  and  the  Ambassador.1 

The  hare,  having  delivered  his  companions  from  the 
tyranny  of  the  lion,  in  the  manner  just  described,  pro- 
ceeds to  improve  the  occasion  by  exhorting  them  to 
engage  in  a  greater  and  more  arduous  warfare,  viz., 
the  struggle  against  their  inward  enemy,  the  lusts  of 

1  Story  vi.,  Book  i. 


The  Masnavi.  211 

the  flesh.  He  illustrates  his  meaning  by  the  story  of 
an  ambassador  who  was  sent  by  the  Emperor  of  Rum 
to  the  Khalifa  Omar.  On  approaching  Medina  this 
ambassador  inquired  for  Omar's  palace,  and  learned 
that  Omar  dwelt  in  no  material  palace,  but  in  a  spirit- 
ual tabernacle,  only  visible  to  purified  hearts.  At  last 
he  discerned  Omar  lying  under  a  palm  tree,  and  drew 
near  to  him  in  fear  and  awe.  Omar  received  him 
kindly,  and  instructed  him  in  the  doctrine  of  the  mys- 
tical union  with  God.  The  ambassador  heard  him 
gladly,  and  asked  him  two  questions,  first,  How  can 
souls  descend  from  heaven  to  earth?  and  secondly, 
With  what  object  are  souls  imprisoned  in  the  bonds 
of  flesh  and  blood?  Omar  responded,  and  the 
ambassador  accepted  his  teaching,  and  became  a 
pure-hearted  Sufi.  The  hare  urged  his  companions 
to  abjure  lust  and  pride,  and  to  go  and  do  likewise. 

God's  Agency  reconciled  with  Man's  Freewill. 

The  ambassador  said,  "  O  Commander  of  the  faithful, 
How  comes  the  soul  down  from  above  to  earth? 
How  can  so  noble  a  bird  be  confined  in  a  cage?" 

He  said,  "  God  speaks  words  of  power  to  souls,  — 
To  things  of  naught,  without  eyes  or  ears, 
And  at  these  words  they  all  spring  into  motion ; 
At  His  words  of  power  these  nothings  arise  quickly, 
And  strong  impulse  urges  them  into  existence. 
Again,  he  speaks  other  spells  to  these  creatures, 
And  swiftly  drives  them  back  again  into  not-being. 


2 1 2  Rumi. 

He  speaks  to  the  rose's  ear,  and  causes  it  to  bloom; 
He  speaks  to  the  tulip,  and  makes  it  blossom. 
He  speaks  a  spell  to  body,  and  it  becomes  a  soul ; 
He  speaks  to  the  sun,  and  it  becomes  a  fount  of  light- 
Again,  in  its  ear  He  whispers  a  word  of  power, 
And  its  face  is  darkened  as  by  a  hundred  eclipses. 
What  is  it  that  God  says  to  the  ear  of  earth, 
That  it  attends  thereto  and  rests  steadfast? 
What  is  it  that  Speaker  says  to  the  cloud, 
That  it  pours  forth  rain-water  like  a  water-skin  ? 

Whosoever  is  bewildered  by  wavering  will, 
In  his  ear  hath  God  whispered  His  riddle, 
That  He  may  bind  him  on  the  horns  of  a  dilemma ; 
For  he  says,  "  Shall  I  do  this  or  its  reverse?" 
Also  from  God  comes  the  preference  of  one  alternative  ; 
'Tis  from  God's  impulsion  that  man  chooses  one  of  the 

two. 
If  you  desire  sanity  in  this  embarrassment, 
Stuff  not  the  ear  of  your  mind  with  cotton. 
Take  the  cotton  of  evil  suggestions  from  the  mind's 

ear, 
That  the  heavenly  voice  from  above  may  enter  it, 
That  you  may  understand  that  riddle  of  His, 
That  you  may  be  cognizant  of  that  open  secret. 
Then    the    mind's    ear    becomes    the    sensorium    of 

inspiration  ; 
For  what  is  this  Divine  voice  but  the  inward  voice  ? x 

1  The  leading  principle  of  all  mysticism  is  that,  independently  of 
sense  and  reason,  man  possesses  an  inward  sense,  or  intuition,  which 
conveys  to  him  a  knowledge  of  God  by  direct  apprehension. 


The  Masnavi.  213 

The  spirit's  eye  and  ear  possess  this  sense, 

The  eye  and  ear  of  reason  and  sense  lack  it. 

The  word  "  compulsion  "  makes  me  impatient  for  love's 

sake.; 
'Tis  he  who  loves  not  who  is  fettered  by  compulsion. 
This  is  close  communion  with  God,  not  compulsion, 
The  shining  of  the  sun,  and  not  a  dark  cloud. 
Or,  if  it  be  compulsion,  'tis  not  common  compulsion, 
It  is  not  the  domination  of  wanton  wilfulness. 
O  son,  they  understand  this  compulsion 
For  whom  God  opens  the  eyes  of  the  inner  man. 
Things  hidden  and  things  future  are  plain  to  them; 
To  speak  of  the  past  seems  to  them  despicable. 
They  possess  freewill  and  compulsion  besides, 
As  in  oyster-shells  raindrops  become  pearls. 
Outside  the  shell  they  are  raindrops,  great  and  small ; 
Inside  they  are  precious  pearls,  big  and  little. 
These  men  also  resemble  the  musk-deer's  bag ; 
Outside  it  is  blood,  but  inside  pure  musk ; 
Yet,  say  not  that  outside  'twas  mere  blood, 
Which  on  entering  the  bag  becomes  musk. 
Nor  say  that  outside  the  alembic  'twas  mere  copper, 
And  becomes  gold  inside,  when  mixed  with  elixir. 
In  your  freewill  and  compulsion  are  vain  fancies, 
But  in  them  they  are  the  light  of  Almighty  power. 
On  the  table  bread  is  a  mere  lifeless  thing, 
When  taken  into  the  body  it  is  a  life-giving  spirit. 
This  transmutation  occurs  not  in  the  table's  heart, 
'Tis  soul  effects  this  transmutation  with  water  of  life. 
Such  is  the  power  of  the  soul,  O  man  of  right  views  ' 


214  Kumi. 

Then  what  is  the  power  of  the  Soul  of  souls?  (God). 

Bread  is  the  food  of  the  body,  yet  consider 

How  can  it  be  the  food  of  the  soul,  O  son? 

Flesh-born  man  by  force  of  soul 

Cleaves  mountains  with  tunnels  and  mines. 

The  might  of  Ferhad's  soul  cleft  a  hill ; 

The  might  of  the  Soul's  soul  cleaves  the  moon.1 

If  the  heart  opens  the  mouth  of  mystery's  store, 

The  soul  springs  up  swiftly  to  highest  heaven. 

If  tongue  discourses  of  hidden  mysteries, 

It  kindles  a  fire  that  consumes  the  world. 

Behold,  then,  God's  action  and  man's  action ; 
Know,  action  does  belong  to  us ;  this  is  evident. 
If  no  action  proceeded  from  men, 
How  could  you  say,  "Why  act  ye  thus?" 
The  agency  of  God  is  the  cause  of  our  action, 
Our  actions  are  the  signs  of  God's  agency ; 
Nevertheless'  our  actions  are  freely  willed  by  us, 
Whence  our  recompense  is  either  hell  or  "  The  Friend." 

The  Vakil  of  the  Prince  of  Bokhara.2 

The  prince  of  Bokhara  had  a  Vakil  who,  through 
fear  of  punishment  for  an  offence  he  had  committed, 
ran  away  and  remained  concealed  in  Kuhistan  and  the 
desert  for  the  space  of  ten  years.  At  the  end  of  that 
time,  being  unable  to  endure  absence  from  his  lord 
and  his  home  any  longer,  he  determined  to  return  to 

1  As  a  sign  of  the  last  day.     Koran  liv.,  I. 

2  Story  xvii.,  Book  iii. 


The  Masnavi.  215 

Bokhara  and  throw  himself  at  his  lord's  feet,  and  en- 
dure whatever  punishment  his  lord  might  be  pleased 
to  inflict  upon  him.  His  friends  did  all  they  could 
to  dissuade  him,  assuring  him  that  the  Prince's  wrath 
was  still  hot  against  him,  and  that  if  he  appeared  at 
Bokhara  he  would  be  put  to  death,  or  at  least  impris- 
oned for  the  rest  of  his  life.  He  replied,  "  O  advisers, 
be  silent,  for  the  force  of  the  love  which  is  drawing  me 
to  Bokhara  is  stronger  than  the  force  of  prudent  coun- 
sels. When  love  pulls  one  way  all  the  wisdom  of  Abu 
Hanifa  and  Ash-Shafi'i  is  impotent  to  withstand  it. 
If  it  shall  please  my  lord  to  slay  me,  I  will  yield  up 
my  life  without  reluctance,  for  this  life  of  estrange- 
ment from  him  which  I  am  now  leading  is  the  same  as 
death,  and  release  from  it  will  be  eternal  happiness. 
I  will  return  to  Bokhara  and  throw  myself  at  my  lord's 
feet,  and  say  to  him,  '  Deal  with  me  as  thou  wilt,  for  I 
can  no  longer  bear  absence  from  thee,  and  life  or 
death  at  thy  hands  is  all  the  same  tome!'"  Accord- 
ingly, he  journeyed  back  to  Bokhara,  counting  the 
very  toils  and  discomforts  of  the  road  sweet  and  de- 
lightful, because  they  were  steps  in  his  homeward 
course.  When  he  reached  Bokhara  his  friends  and 
relations  all  warned  him  not  to  show  himself,  as  the 
Prince  was  still  mindful  of  his  offence  and  bent  on 
punishing  him ;  but  he  replied  to  them  as  to  his  other 
advisers,  that  he  was  utterly  regardless  of  his  life,  and 
was  resolved  to  commit  himself  to  his  lord's  good 
pleasure.  He  then  went  to  the  court  and  threw  him- 
self at  his  lord's  feet  and  swooned  away.     The  Prince, 


216  Rumi. 

seeing  the  strong  affection  borne  to  him  by  his  repent- 
ant servant,  conceived  a  similar  affection  toward  him, 
and  descended  from  his  throne  and  graciously  raised 
him  from  the  ground,  and  pardoned  his  offence.  Thus 
it  is  that  eternal  life  is  gained  by  utter  abandonment 
of  one's  own  life.  When  God  appears  to  His  ardent 
lover  the  lover  is  absorbed  in  Him,  and  not  so  much 
as  a  hair  of  the  lover  remains.  True  lovers  are  as 
shadows,  and  when  the  sun  shines  in  glory  the  shad- 
ows vanish  away.  He  is  a  true  lover  of  God  to 
whom  God  says,  "  I  am  thine,  and  thou  art  mine  !  " 

In  the  course  of  this  story,  which  is  narrated  at 
great  length,  are  introduced  anecdotes  of  a  lover  and 
his  mistress,  of  the  Virgin  Mary  being  visited  by  the 
"  Blessed  Spirit  "  or  Angel  Gabriel,1  of  the  fatal  mosque, 
of  Galen's  devotion  to  carnal  learning,  of  Satan's  treach- 
ery to  the  men  of  Mecca  at  the  battle  of  Bedr,2  and  of 
Solomon  and  the  gnat.  There  also  occur  comments 
on  various  texts,  and  a  curious  comparison  of  the  trials 
and  wholesome  afflictions  of  the  righteous  to  the  boil- 
ing of  pot-herbs  in  a  saucepan  by  the  cook. 

The  Reply  of  the  Lover  when  asked  by  his  Mis- 
tress which  City  of  all  those  he  had  seen 
was  most  Pleasing  in  his  Sight. 

A  damsel  said  to  her  lover,  "  O  fond  youth, 
You  have  visited  many  cities  in  your  travels ; 
Which  of  those  cities  seems  most  delightful  to  you?  " 
1  Koran  xix..  18.  2  Koran  viii.,  10. 


The  Masnavi.  217 

He  made  answer,  "  The  city  wherein  my  love  dwells. 
In  whatever  nook  my  queen  alights, 
Though  it  be  as  the  eye  of  a  needle,  'tis  a  wide  plain  ; 
Wherever  her  Yusuf-like  face  shines  as  a  moon, 
Though  it  be  the  bottom  of  a  well,  'tis  Paradise. 
With  thee,  my  love,  hell  itself  were  heaven. 
With  thee  a  prison  would  be  a  rose-garden. 
With  thee  hell  would  be  a  mansion  of  delight, 
Without  thee  lilies  and  roses  would  be  as  flames  of 
fire  ! " 


The  Answer  of  the  Vakil  to  those  who  advised 
him  not  to  court  death  by  yielding  himself 
up  to  his  Lord. 

He  said,  "  I  am  a  drawer  of  water ;  water  attracts  me, 

Even  though  I  know  water  may  be  my  death. 

No  drawer  of  water  flees  from  water, 

Even  though  it  may  cause  him  a  hundred  deaths. 

Though  it  may  make  my  hand  and  belly  dropsical, 

My  love  for  water  will  never  be  lessened ; 

I  should  say,  when  they  asked  me  about  my  belly, 

1  Would  that  the  ocean  might  flow  into  it  ! ' 

Though  the  bottle  of  my  belly  were  burst  with  water, 

And  though  I  should  die,  my  death  would  be  acceptable. 

Wheresoever  I  see  one  seeking  water,  I  envy  him, 

And  cry,  'Would  I  were  in  his  place  ! ' 

My  hand  is  a  tabor  and  my  belly  a  drum, 

Like  the  rose  I  beat  the  drum  of  love  of  water. 


218  Rurni. 

Like  the  earth  or  like  a  foetus  I  devour  blood, 

Since  I  became  a  lover  this  is  my  occupation. 

If  that  '  Faithful  Spirit '  should  shed  my  blood, 

I  would  drink  it  up  drop  by  drop  like  the  earth. 

At  night  I  boil  on  the  fire  like  a  cooking-pot, 

From  morn  till  eve  I  drink  blood  like  the  sand. 

It  repents  me  that  I  planned  a  stratagem, 

And  that  I  fled  from  before  his  wrath. 

Tell  him  to  sate  his  wrath  on  my  poor  life, 

He  is  the  '  Feast  of  Sacrifice,'  and  I  his  loving  cow.1 

The  cow,  whether  it  eats  or  sleeps, 

Thinks  of  naught  but  sacrificing  itself. 

Know  me  to  be  that  cow  of  Moses  which  gave  its  life, 

Each  part  of  me  gives  life  to  the  righteous. 

That  cow  of  Moses  was  made  a  sacrifice, 

And  its  least  part  became  a  source  of  life. 

That  murdered  man  leapt  up  from  his  deadness 

At  the  words,  '  Strike  the  corpse  with  part  of  her.' 2 

0  pious  ones,  slay  the  cow  (of  lust), 
If  ye  desire  true  life  of  soul  and  spirit  ! 

I  died  as  a  mineral  and  arose  a  plant, 

1  died  as  a  plant  and  rose  again  an  animal.3 
I  died  as  an  animal  and  arose  a  man. 

Why  then  should  I  fear  to  become  less  by  dying? 

1  The  Id  ul  Azha,  or  the  Feast  of  Sacrifices,  held  on  the  tenth  day 
of  the  month  Zul  Hijja.     It  is  also  called  "  The  Cow  Festival." 

2  This  refers  to  Koran  ii.,  63.  The  cow  was  to  be  sacrificed  in 
order  that  a  murderer  might  be  discovered  by  striking  the  corpse 
with  a  piece  of  her  flesh. 

3  I.e.,  Earth  losing  its  own  form  becomes  vegetable,  vegetable 
again  perishes  to  feed  and  be  transmuted  into  animal,  and  in  like 
manner  animal  becomes  man. 


The  Masnavi.  219 

I  shall  die  once  again  as  a  man 

To  rise  an  angel  perfect  from  head  to  foot ! 

Again  when  I  suffer  dissolution  as  an  angel, 

I  shall  become  what  passes  the  conception  of  man  ! 

Let  me  then  become  non-existent,  for  non-existence 

Sings  to  me  in  organ  tones,  'To  him  shall  we  return.' ' 

Know  death  to  be  the  gathering  together  of  the  people, 

The  water  of  life  is  hidden  in  the  land  of  darkness. 

Like  a  water-lily  seek  life  there  ! 

Yea,  like  that  drawer  of  water,  at  the  risk  of  life, 

Water  will  be  his  death,  yet  he  still  seeks  water, 

And  still  drinks  on,  —  and  God  knows  what  is  right. 

O  lover,  cold-hearted  and  void  of  loyalty, 

Who  from  fear  for  your  life  shun  the  beloved  ! 

0  base  one,  behold  a  hundred  thousand  souls 
Dancing  toward  the  deadly  sword  of  his  love  : 
Behold  water  in  a  pitcher ;  pour  it  out ; 
Will  that  water  run  away  from  the  stream? 
When  that  water  joins  the  water  of  the  stream 
It  is  lost  therein,  and  becomes  itself  the  stream. 
Its  individuality  is  lost,  but  its  essence  remains, 
And  hereby  it  becomes  not  less  nor  inferior. 

1  will  hang  myself  upon  my  lord's  palm  tree 
In  excuse  for  having  fled  away  from  him  !  " 

Even  as  a  ball  rolling  along  on  head  and  face, 
He  fell  at  the  feet  of  the  Prince  with  streaming  eyes. 
The  people  were  all  on  the  alert,  expecting 
That  the  Prince  would  burn  him  or  hang  him, 

1  Koran  ii.,  153 :   "  Verily  we  are  God's,  and  to  Him  shall  we 
return." 


220  Rumi. 

Saying,  "  Moth-like  he  has  seen  the  blaze  of  the  light^ 

And  fool-like  has  plunged  therein  and  lost  his  life." 

But  the  torch  of  love  is  not  like  that  torch, 

Tis  light,  light  in  the  midst  of  light, 

Tis  the  reverse  of  torches  of  fire, 

It  appears  to  be  fire,  but  is  all  sweetness. 

Love  generates  Love.     "If  ye  love  God,  God  will 

LOVE    YOU."  1 

That  Bokharian  then  cast  himself  into  the  flame, 
But  his  love  made  the  pain  endurable  ; 
And  as  his  burning  sighs  ascended  to  heaven, 
The  love  of  the  Prince  was  kindled  toward  him. 

******* 
The  heart  of  man  is  like  the  root  of  a  tree, 
Therefrom  grow  the  leaves  on  firm  branches.2 
Corresponding  to  that  root  grow  up  branches 
As  well  on  the  tree  as  on  souls  and  intellects. 
The  tops  of  the  perfect  trees  reach  the  heavens, 
The  roots  firm,  and  the  branches  in  the  sky. 
Since  then  the  tree  of  love  has  grown  up  to  heaven, 
How  shall  it  not  also  grow  in  the  heart  of  the  Prince? 
A  wave  washes  away  the  remembrance  of  the  sin  from 

his  heart, 
For  from  each  heart  is  a  window  to  other  hearts ; 
Since  in  each  heart  there  is  a  window  to  other  hearts, 

1  Koran  iii.,  29. 

2  "  Seest  thou  not  to  what  God  likeneth  a  good  word  ?  To  a 
good  tree,  its  root  firmly  fixed,  and  its  branches  in  the  heaven." 
Koran  xiv.,  29. 


The  Masnavi,  221 

They  are  not  separated  and  shut  off  like  two  bodies. 
Thus,  even  though  two  lamp-dishes  be  not  joined, 
Yet  their  light  is  united  in  a  single  ray. 
No  lover  ever  seeks  union  with  his  beloved, 
But  his  beloved  is  also  seeking  union  with  him. 
But  the  lover's  love  makes  his  body  lean, 
While  the  beloved's  love  makes  hers  fair  and  lusty. 
When  in  this  heart  the  lightning  spark  of  love  arises, 
Be  sure  this  love  is  reciprocated  in  that  heart. 
When  the  love  of  God  arises  in  thy  heart, 
Without  doubt  God  also  feels  love  for  thee. 

The  noise  of  clapping  of  hands  is  never  heard 
From  one  of  thy  hands  unaided  by  the  other  hand. 
The  man  athirst  cries,  "  Where  is  delicious  water  ?  " 
Water  too  cries,  "  Where  is  the  water-drinker  ?  " 
This  thirst  in  my  soul  is  the  attraction  of  the  water ; 
I  am  the  water's  and  the  water  is  mine. 
God's   wisdom   in    His    eternal    foreknowledge    and 

decree 
Made  us  to  be  lovers  one  of  the  other. 
Nay  more,  all  the  parts  of  the  world  by  this  decree 
Are  arranged  in  pairs,  and  each  loves  its  mate. 
Every  part  of  the  world  desires  its  mate, 
Just  as  amber  attracts  blades  of  straw. 
Heaven  says  to  earth,  "  All  hail  to  thee  ! 
We  are  related  to  one  another  as  iron  and  magnet." 
Heaven  is  man  and  earth  woman  in  character ; 
Whatever  heaven  sends  it,  earth  cherishes. 
When  earth  lacks  heat,  heaven  sends  heat ; 
When  it  lacks  moisture  and  dew,  heaven  sends  them. 


222  Rutni. 

The  earthy  sign  !  succors  the  terrestrial  earth, 

The  watery  sign  (Aquarius)  sends  moisture  to  it ; 

The  windy  sign  sends  the  clouds  to  it, 

To  draw  off  unwholesome  exhalations. 

The  fiery  sign  (Leo)  sends  forth  the  heat  of  the  sun, 

Like  a  dish  heated  red-hot  in  front  and  behind. 

The  heaven  is  busily  toiling  through  ages, 

Just  as  men  labor  to  provide  food  for  women. 

And  the  earth  does  the  woman's  work,  and  toils 

In  bearing  offspring  and  suckling  them. 

Know  then  earth  and  heaven  are  endued  with  sense, 

Since  they  act  like  persons  endued  with  sense. 

If  these  two  lovers  did  not  suck  nutriment  from  each 

other, 
Why  should  they  creep  together  like  man  and  wife  ? 
Without  the  earth  how  could  roses  and  saffron  grow? 
For  naught  can  grow  from  the  sole  heat  and  rain  of 

heaven. 
This  is  the  cause  of  the  female  seeking  the  male, 
That  the  work  of  each  may  be  accomplished. 
God  has  instilled  mutual  love  into  man  and  woman, 
That  the  world  may  be  perpetuated  by  their  union. 

******* 
Earth  says  to  the  earth  of  the  body,  "  Come  away, 
Quit  the  soul  and  come  to  me  as  dust. 
Thou  art  of  my  genus,  and  wilt  be  better  with  me, 
Thou  hadst  better  quit  the  soul  and  fly  to  me  ! " 
Body  replies,  "  True,  but  my  feet  are  fast  bound, 
Though  like  thee  I  suffer  from  separation." 

1  I.e.  of  the  Zodiac. 


The  Masnavi.  223 

Water  calls  out  to  the  moisture  of  the  body, 

"  O  moisture,  return  to  me  from  your  foreign  abode  ! " 

Fire  also  calls  out  to  the  heat  of  the  body, 

"  Thou  art  of  fire  ;  return  to  thy  root !  " 

In  the  body  there  are  seventy-and-tvvo  diseases ; 
It  is  ill  compacted  owing  to  the  struggle  of  its  elements. 
Disease  comes  to  rend  the  body  asunder, 
And  to  drag  apart  its  constituent  elements. 
The  four  elements  are  as  birds  tied  together  by  the 

feet; 
Death,  sickness,  and  disease  loose  their  feet  asunder. 
The  moment  their  feet  are  loosed  from  the  others, 
The  bird  of  each  element  flies  off  by  itself. 
The  repulsion  of  each  of  these  principles  and  causes 
Inflicts  every  moment  a  fresh  pang  on  our  bodies. 
That  it  may  dissolve  these  composite  bodies  of  ours, 
The  bird  of  each  part  tries  to  fly  away  to  its  origin ; 
But  the  wisdom  of  God  prevents  this  speedy  end, 
And  preserves  their  union  till  the  appointed  day. 
He  says,  "  O  parts,  the  appointed  time  is  not  yet ; 
It  is  useless  for  you  to  take  wing  before  that  day." 

But  as  each  part  desires  reunion  with  its  original, 
How  is  it  with  the  soul  who  is  a  stranger  in  exile? 
It  says,  "  O  parts  of  my  habitation  here  below, 
My  absence  is  sadder  than  yours,  as  I  am  heaven-born 
The  body  loves  green  pastures  and  running  water, 
For  this  cause  that  its  origin  is  from  them. 
The  love  of  the  soul  is  for  life  and  the  living  one, 
Because  its  origin  is  the  Soul  not  bound  to  place. 
The  love  of  the  soul  is  for  wisdom  and  knowledge, 


224  Rumi. 

That  of  the  body  for  houses,  gardens,  and  vineyards  ; 
The  love  of  the  soul  is  for  things  exalted  on  high, 
That  of  the  body  for  acquisition  of  goods  and  food. 
The  love  too  of  Him  on  high  is  directed  to  the  soul : 
Know  this  for  '  He  loves  them  that  love  Him.'  "  l 
The  sum  is  this,  that  whoso  seeks  another, 
The  soul  of  that  other  who  is  sought  inclines  to  him. 

t£  t£  vfc  ffr  vfc  ifc  ¥fc 

Let  us  quit  the  subject.  —  Love  for  that  soul  athirst 
Was  kindled  in  the  breast  of  the  Prince  of  Bokhara. 
The  smoke  of  that  love  and  the  grief  of  that  burning 

heart 
Ascended  to  his  master  and  excited  his  compassion. 

The  Praises  addressed  to  the  Prince  by  the 
Vakil. 

He  said,  "  O  phoenix  of  God  and  goal  of  the  spirit, 
I  thank  thee  that  thou  hast  come  back  from  Mount 

Qaf! 
O  Israfil  of  the  resurrection-day  of  love, 
O  love,  love,  and  heart's  desire  of  love  ! 
Let  thy  first  boon  to  me  be  this, 
To  lend  thine  ear  to  my  orisons. 
Though  thou  knowest  my  condition  clearly, 
O  protector  of  slaves,  listen  to  my  speech. 
A  thousand  times,  O  prince  incomparable, 
Has  my  reason  taken  flight  in  desire  to  see  thee, 
And  to  hear  thee  and  to  listen  to  thy  words, 
1  Koran  v.,  59. 


The  Masnavi.  225 

And  to  behold  thy  life-giving  smiles. 

Thy  inclining  thine  ear  to  my  supplications 

Is  as  a  caress  to  my  misguided  soul. 

The  baseness  of  my  heart's  coin  is  known  to  thee, 

But  thou  hast  accepted  it  as  genuine  coin. 

Thou  art  proud  toward  the  arrogant  and  proud  ; 

All  clemencies  are  as  naught  to  thy  clemency. 

First  hear  this,  that  while  I  remained  in  absence, 

First  and  last  alike  escaped  me. 

Secondly  ,  hear  this,  O  prince  beloved, 

That  I  searched  much,  but  found  no  second  to  thee. 

Thirdly,  that  when  I  had  departed  outside  thee, 

I  said  it  was  like  the  Christian  Trinity.1 

Fourthly,  when  my  harvest  was  burned  up, 

I  knew  not  the  fourth  from  the  fifth. 

Wheresoever  thou  findest  blood  on  the  roads, 

Trace  it,  and  'tis  tears  of  blood  from  my  eyes. 

My  words  are  thunder,  and  these  sighs  and  tears 

Are  drawn  by  it  as  rain  from  the  clouds. 

I  am  distracted  between  speaking  and  weeping. 

Shall  I  weep,  or  shall  I  speak,  or  what  shall  I  do  ? 

If  I  speak,  my  weeping  ceases ; 

If  I  weep,  I  cease  to  praise  and  magnify  thee." 

He  spoke  thus,  and  then  fell  to  weeping, 
So  that  high  and  low  wept  with  him. 
So  many  "Ahs"  and  "  Alases  "  proceeded  from  his 

heart, 
That  the  people  of  Bokhara  formed  a  circle  round  him. 

1  "They  surely  are  infidels  who  say,  'God  is  the  third  of  three,* 
for  there  is  no  God  but  one  God."     Koran  v.,  77. 


226  Rutni. 

Talking  sadly,  weeping  sadly,  smiling  sadly, 

Men  and  women,  small  and  great,  were  all  assembled. 

The  whole  city  wept  in  concert  with  him ; 

Men  and  women  mingled  together  as  on  the  last  day. 

Then  Heaven  said  to  Earth, 

"  If  you  never  saw  a  resurrection-day,  see  it  here  ! " 

Reason  was  amazed,  saying,  "  What  love,  what  ecstasy  ! 

Is  his  separation  more  wondrous,  or  his  reunion  ?  " 

The  Three  Fishes.1 

This  story,  which  is  taken  from  the  book  of  Kalila 
and  Damnah,2  is  as  follows.  There  was  in  a  secluded 
place  a  lake,  which  was  fed  by  a  running  stream,  and 
in  this  lake  were  three  fishes,  one  very  wise,  the  sec- 
ond half  wise,  and  the  third  foolish.  One  day  some 
fishermen  passed  by  that  lake,  and  having  espied  the 
fish,  hastened  home  to  fetch  their  nets.  The  fish  also 
saw  the  fishermen  and  were  sorely  disquieted.  The 
very  wise  fish,  without  a  minute's  delay,  quitted  the 
lake  and  took  refuge  in  the  running  stream  which  com- 
municated with  it,  and  thus  escaped  the  impending 
danger.  The  half  wise  fish  delayed  doing  anything 
till  the  fishermen  actually  made  their  appearance  with 
their  nets.  He  then  floated  upon  the  surface  of  the 
water,  pretending  to  be  dead,  and  the  fishermen  took 
him  up  and  threw  him  into  the  stream,  and  by  this 
device  he  saved  his  life.     But  the  foolish  fish  did  noth- 

1  Book  iv.,  Story  v. 

2  Anvar  i  Suhaili,  Book  i.,  Story  xv. 


The  Masnavi.  227 

ing  but  swim  wildly  about,  and  was  taken  and  killed  by 
the  fishermen. 

The  Marks  of  the  Wise  Man,  of  the  Half  Wise, 
and  of  the  fool. 

The  wise  man  is  he  who  possesses  a  torch  of  his  own  ; 

He  is  the  guide  and  leader  of  the  caravan. 

That  leader  is  his  own  director  and  light ; 

That  illuminated  one  follows  his  own  lead. 

He  is  his  own  protector ;  do  ye  also  seek  protection 

From  that  light  whereon  his  soul  is  nurtured. 

The  second,  he,  namely,  who  is  half  wise, 

Knows  the  wise  man  to  be  the  light  of  his  eyes. 

He  clings  to  the  wise  man  like  a  blind  man  to  his 

guide, 
So  as  to  become  possessed  of  the  wise  man's  sight. 
But  the  fool,  who  has  no  particle  of  wisdom, 
Has  no  wisdom  of  his  own,  and  quits  the  wise  man. 
He  knows  nothing  of  the  way,  great  or  small, 
And  is  ashamed  to  follow  the  footsteps  of  the  guide. 
He  wanders  into  the  boundless  desert, 
Sometimes  halting  and  despairing,  sometimes  running. 
He  has  no  lamp  wherewith  to  light  himself  on  his  way, 
Nor  half  a  lamp  which  might  recognize  and  seek  light. 
He  lacks  wisdom,  so  as  to  boast  of  being  alive, 
And  also  half  wisdom,  so  as  to  assume  to  be  dead. 
That  half. wise  one  became  as  one  utterly  dead 
In  order  to  rise  up  out  of  his  degradation. 
If  you  lack  perfect  wisdom,  make  yourself  as  dead 


228  Rumi. 

Under  the  shadow  of  the  wise,  whose  words  give  life. 
The  fool  is  neither  alive  so  as  to  companion  with  'Isa, 
Nor  yet  dead  so  as  to  feel  the  power  of  Tsa's  breath. 
His  blind  soul  wanders  in  every  direction, 
And  at  last  makes  a  spring,  but  springs  not  upward. 

The  Counsels  of  the  Bird. 

A  man  captured  a  bird  by  wiles  and  snares ; 

The  bird  said  to  him,  "  O  noble  sir, 

In  your  time  you  have  eaten  many  oxen  and  sheep, 

And  likewise  sacrificed  many  camels ; 

You  have  never  become  satisfied  with  their  meat, 

So  you  will  not  be  satisfied  with  my  flesh. 

Let  me  go,  that  I  may  give  you  three  counsels, 

Whence  you  will  see  whether  I  am  wise  or  foolish. 

The  first  of  my  counsels  shall  be  given  on  your  wrist, 

The  second  on  your  well- plastered  roof, 

And  the  third  I  will  give  you  from  the  top  of  a  tree. 

On  hearing  all  three  you  will  deem  yourself  happy. 

As  regards  the  counsel  on  your  wrist,  'tis  this, — 

1  Believe  not  foolish  assertions  of  any  one  ! '  " 

When  he  had  spoken  this  counsel  on  his  wrist,  he  flew 

Up  to  the  top  of  the  roof,  entirely  free. 

Then  he  said,  "  Do  not  grieve  for  what  is  past ; 

When  a  thing  is  done,  vex  not  yourself  about  it." 

He  continued,  "  Hidden  inside  this  body  of  mine 

Is  a  precious  pearl,  ten  drachms  in  weight. 

That  jewel  of  right  belonged  to  you, 

Wealth  for  yourself  and  prosperity  for  your  children. 


The  Masnqvi.  229 

You  have  lost  it,  as  it  was  not  fated  you  should  get  it, 

That  pearl  whose  like  can  nowhere  be  found." 

Thereupon  the  man,  like  a  woman  in  her  travail, 

Gave  vent  to  lamentations  and  weeping. 

The  bird  said  to  him,  "  Did  I  not  counsel  you,  saying, 

'  Beware  of  grieving  over  what  is  past  and  gone  '  ? 

When  'tis  past  and  gone,  why  sorrow  for  it? 

Either  you  understood  not  my  counsel  or  are  deaf. 

The  first  counsel  I  gave  you  was  this,  namely, 

'  Be  not  misguided  enough  to  believe  foolish  asser- 
tions.' 

O  fool,  altogether  I  do  not  weigh  three  drachms, 

How  can  a  pearl  of  ten  drachms  be  within  me?" 

The  man  recovered  himself  and  said,  "  Well  then, 

Tell  me  now  your  third  good  counsel ! " 

The  bird  replied,  "  You  have  made  a  fine  use  of  the 
others, 

That  I  should  waste  my  third  counsel  upon  you  ! 

To  give  counsel  to  a  sleepy  ignoramus 

Is  to  sow  seeds  upon  salt  land. 

Torn  garments  of  folly  and  ignorance  cannot  be 
patched. 

O  counsellors,  waste  not  the  seed  of  counsel  on  them  !  " 


230  Rumi. 


POEMS.1 
i. 

He  comes,  a  moon  whose  like  the  sky  ne'er  saw,  awake 

or  dreaming, 
Crowned  with  eternal  flame  no  flood  can  lay. 
Lo,  from  the  flagon  of  thy  love,  O  Lord,  my  soul  is 

swimming, 
And  ruined  all  my  body's  house  of  clay  ! 

When  first  the  Giver  of  the  grape  my  lonely  heart  be- 
friended, 

Wine  fired  my  bosom  and  my  veins  filled  up, 

But  when  his  image  all  mine  eye  possessed,  a  voice 
descended  : 

"  Well  done,  O  sovereign  Wine  and  peerless  Cup  !  " 

Love's  mighty  arm  from  roof  to  base  each  dark  abode 

is  hewing 
Where  chinks  reluctant  catch  a  golden  ray. 
My  heart,  when  Love's  sea  of  a  sudden  burst  into  its 

viewing, 
Leaped  headlong  in,  with  "  Find  me  now  who  may  !  " 

As,  the  sun  moving,  clouds  behind  him  run, 
All  hearts  attend  thee,  O  Tabriz's  Sun  ! 

1  From  the  Divani  Shamsi  Tabriz  translated  by  Mr.  Reynold  A. 
Nicholson. 


Poems.  23 1 


11. 

The  man  of  God  1  is  drunken  without  wine, 

The  man  of  God  is  full  without  meat. 

The  man  of  God  is  distraught  and  bewildered, 

The  man  of  God  has  no  food  or  sleep. 

The  man  of  God  is  a  king  'neath  dervish-cloak, 

The  man  of  God  is  a  treasure  in  a  ruin.2 

The  man  of  God  is  not  of  air  and  earth, 

The  man  of  God  is  not  of  fire  and  water. 

The  man  of  God  is  a  boundless  sea, 

The  man  of  God  rains  pearls  without  a  cloud. 

The  man  of  God  hath  hundred  moons  and  skies, 

The  man  of  God  hath  hundred  suns. 

The  man  of  God  is  made  wise  by  the  Truth, 

The  man  of  God  is  not  learned  from  book. 

The  man  of  God  is  beyond  infidelity  and  religion, 

To  the  man  of  God  right  and  wrong  are  alike. 

The  man  of  God  has  ridden  away  from  Not-being, 

The  man  of  God  is  gloriously  attended. 

The  man  of  God  is  concealed,  Shamsi  Din ; 

The  man  of  God  do  thou  seek  and  find  ! 

1  The  perfect  Sufi. 

2  Orientals  fancy  that  treasures  guarded  by  inviolable  talismans  lie 
buried  in  the  ruins  of  Persepolis. 


232  Rumi. 


in.1 

Every  moment  the  voice  of  Love  is  coming  from  left 

and  right. 
We  are  bound  for  heaven  :  who  has  a  mind  to  sight- 
seeing? 
We  have  been  in  heaven,  we  have  been  friends  of  the 

angels ; 
Thither,  sire,  let  us  return,  for  that  is  our  country. 
We  are  even  higher  than  heaven  and  more  than  the 

angels ; 
Why  pass  we  not  beyond  these  twain?      Our  goal  is 

majesty  supreme. 
How  different  a  source  have  the  world  of  dust  and  the 

pure  substance  ! 
Though  we  came  down,  let  us  haste  back — what  place 

is  this? 
Young    fortune    is  our   friend,  yielding   up    soul   our 

business ; 
The  leader  of  our   caravan  is  Mustafa,  glory  of  the 

world. 
This  gale's  sweet  scent  is  from  the  curl  of  his  tresses, 
This  thought's  radiance  is  from  a  cheek  like  "  by  the 

morning  bright." 
By  his  cheek  the  moon  was   split :  she  endured  not 

the  sight  of  him  ; 

iThis  ghazel  was  sent  by  Sa'di  to  Shamsu'ddin  Hindi,  prince  of 
Shiraz.who  asked  him  "to  select  the  best  ode,  with  the  most  sublime 
thoughts,  that  he  knew  of  as  existing  in  Persian,  and  to  send  it  to 
him  for  presentation  to  the  great  Khan  of  the  Moguls."  Redhouse's 
Masnavi. 


Poems.  233 

Such  fortune  the  moon  found —  she  that  is  an  humble 

beggar. 
Behold  a  continual    "  cleaving  of  the  moon  "  in   our 

hearts, 
For  why  should  the   vision    of  that  vision    transcend 

thine  eye? 
Came  the  billow  of  "Am  I  not?'''  and  wrecked  the 

body's  ship ; 
When  the  ship  wrecks  once  more  is  the  time  of  union's 

attainment. 
Mankind,  like  waterfowl,  are  sprung  from  the  sea  — 

the  sea  of  soul ; 
Risen  from  that  sea,  why  should  the  bird  make  here 

his  home? 
Nay,  we  are  pearls  in  that  sea,  therein  we  all  abide ; 
Else,  why  does  wave  follow  wave  from  the  sea  of  soul  ? 
'Tis  the  time  of  union's  attainment,   'tis  the  time  of 

eternity's  beauty, 
'  Tis  the  time  of  favor  and  largesse,   'tis  the  ocean  of 

perfect  purity. 
The  billow  of  largesse  hath  appeared,  the  thunder  of 

the  sea  hath  arrived, 
The  morn  of  blessedness  hath  dawned.     Morn  ?     No, 

'tis  the  light  of  God. 
Who  is  this  pictured  form,  who  is  this  monarch  and 

this  prince? 
Who  is  this  aged  wisdom?     They  are  all  veils. 
The  remedy  against  veils  is  ecstasies  like  these, 
The  fountain  of  these  draughts  is  in  your  own  head 

and  eyes. 


234  Rumi. 

In  the  head  itself  is  nought,  but  ye  have  two  heads ; 
This  head  of  clay  is  from  earth,  and  that  pure  head 

from  heaven. 
O  the  many  pure  heads  scattered  beneath  the  clay, 
That  thou  mayst  know  the  head  depends  on  that  other 

head  ! 
That  original    head    hidden,  and    this    derived    head 

manifest, 
Forasmuch   as   behind    this   world    lies    the    infinite 

universe. 
Tie  up   the  skin,  O  cup-bearer,  fetch  wine  from  our 

jar: 
The  vessel  of  perceptions  is  straiter  than  a  strait  pass. 
From  Tabriz-ward  shone  the  Sun  of  Truth,  and  I  said 

to  him  : 
"  Thy  light  is  at  once  joined  with  all  things  and  apart 

from  all." 


IV. 

What  pearl  art  thou  that  none  possesseth  the  price  of 

thee? 
What  does  the  world  possess  that  is  not  thy  gift  ? 
Is  there  a  worse  punishment  than  his  who  lives  away 

from  thy  face? 
Punish  not  thy  servant  though  he  is  unworthy  of  thee. 
He  that  is  fallen  amid  the  surge  of  accidents 
Escapes  not  by  swimming,  since  he  is  no  friend  of 

thine. 
The  world  has  no  permanence,  and  if  it  have, 


Poems.  235 

Deem  it  perishable,  because  it  is  unfamiliar  with  thy 

permanence. 
How  happy  the  king  that  is  mated  by  thy  rook  ! 
How  fair  company  hath  he  who  lacks  not  thine  ! 
I  desire  continually  to  fling  heart  and  soul  at  thy  feet ; 
Dust  on  the  head  of  the  soul  which  is  not  the  dust  of 

thy  feet  ! 
Blessed  to  all  birds  is  desire  of  thee ; 
How  unblest  the  bird  that  desires  thee  not ! 
I  will  not  shun  thy  blow,  for  very  crude 
Is  the  heart  ne'er  burned  in  the  fire  of  thy  affliction. 
To  thy  praise  and  praisers  there  is  no  end ; 
What  atom  but  is  reeling  with  thy  praise  ? 
Like  that  one  of  whom  Nizami1  tells  in  verse, 
Tyrannize  not,  for  I  cannot  endure  thy  tyranny. 
O  Shamsi  Tabriz,  beauty  and  glory  of  the  horizons, 
What  king  but  is  a  beggar  of  thee  with  heart  and  soul  ? 


VI. 

Poor  copies  out  of  heaven's  original, 
Pale  earthly  pictures  mouldering  to  decay, 
What  care  although  your  beauties  break  and  fall, 
When  that  which  gave  them  life  endures  for  aye  ? 

O  never  vex  thine  heart  with  idle  woes  : 
All  high  discourse  enchanting  the  rapt  ear, 
All  gilded  landscapes  and  brave  glistering  shows, 
Fade  —  perish,  but  it  is  not  as  we  fear. 
1  Probably  Laili. 


236  Rumi. 

While  far  away  the  living  fountains  ply, 
Each  petty  brook  goes  brimful  to  the  main. 
Since  brook  nor  fountain  can  forever  die, 
Thy  fears  how  foolish,  thy  lament  how  vain  ! 

What  is  this  fountain,  wouldst  thou  rightly  know  ? 
The  Soul  whence  issue  all  created  things. 
Doubtless  the  rivers  shall  not  cease  to  flow, 
Till  silenced  are  the  everlasting  springs. 

Farewell  to  sorrow,  and  with  quiet  mind 
Drink  long  and  deep  :  let  others  fondly  deem 
The  channel  empty  they  perchance  may  find, 
Or  fathom  that  unfathomable  stream. 

The  moment  thou  to  this  low  world  wast  given, 
A  ladder  stood  whereby  thou  might'st  aspire ; 
And  first  thy  steps,  which  upward  still  have  striven, 
From  mineral  mounted  to  the  plant :  then  higher 

To  animal  existence  :  next,  the  Man, 
With  knowledge,  reason,  faith.     O  wondrous  goal  ! 
This  body,  which  a  crumb  of  dust  began  — 
How  fairly  fashioned  the  consummate  whole  ! 

Yet  stay  not  here  thy  journey  :  thou  shalt  grow 
An  angel  bright  and  home  far  orT  in  heaven. 
Plod  on,  plunge  last  in  the  great  Sea,  that  so 
Thy  little  drop  make  oceans  seven  times  seven. 

"  The  Son  of  God  !  "     Nay,  leave  that  word  unsaid. 
Say,  "  God  is  one,  the  pure,  the  single  Truth." 


Poems.    .  237 

What  though  thy  frame  be  withered,  old,  and  dead, 
If  the  soul  save  her  fresh  immortal  youth? 

VI. 

Lo,  for  I  to  myself  am  unknown,  now  in  God's  name 

what  must  I  do? 
I  adore  not  the  Cross  nor  the  Crescent,  I  am  not  a 

Giaour  nor  a  Jew. 
East  nor  West   land  nor  sea  is  my  home,  I  have  kin 

nor  with  angel  nor  gnome, 
I  am  wrought  not  of  fire  nor  of  foam,  I  am  shaped 

not  of  dust  nor  of  dew. 
I  was  born  not  in  China  afar,  not  in  Saqsin  and  not  in 

Bulghar ; 
Not  in  India,  where   five   rivers    are,  nor   'Iraq   nor 

Khorasan  I  grew. 
Not  in  this  world  nor  that  world  I  dwell,  not  in  Para- 
dise, neither  in  Hell ; 
Not  from  Eden  and  Rizwan  I  fell,  not  from  Adam  my 

lineage  I  drew. 
In  a  place  beyond  uttermost  Place,  in  a  tract  without 

shadow  of  trace, 
Soul  and  body  transcending,  I  live  in  the  soul  of  my 

Loved  One  anew  ! 

VII. 

Up,  O  ye  lovers,  and  away  !  'Tis  time  to  leave  the 
world  for  aye. 

Hark,  loud  and  clear  from  heaven  the  drum  of  part- 
ing calls  —  let  none  delay  ! 


238  Rumi. 

The  cameleer  hath  risen  amain,  made  ready  all  the 

camel- train, 
And  quittance  now  desires  to  gain  :  why  sleep  ye,  trav- 
ellers, I  pray? 
Behind  us  and  before  there  swells  the  din  of  parting 

and  of  bells ; 
To  shoreless  Space  each  moment  sails  a  disembodied 

spirit  away. 
From  yonder  starry  lights  and  through  those  curtain 

awnings  darkly  blue 
Mysterious  figures  float  in  view,  all  strange  and  secret 

things  display. 
From  this  orb,  wheeling  round  its  pole,  a  wondrous 

slumber  o'er  thee  stole  : 
O  weary  life  that  weighest  naught,  O  sleep  that  on  my 

soul  dost  weigh  ! 
O  heart,  toward  thy  heart's  love  wend,  and  O  friend, 

fly  toward  the  Friend, 
Be  wakeful,  watchman,  to  the  end  :  drowse  seemingly 

no  watchman  may. 

VIII. 

Why  wilt  thou  dwell  in  mouldy  cell,  a  captive,  O  my 

heart  ? 
Speed,  speed  the  flight !  a  nursling  bright  of  yonder 

world  thou  art. 
He  bids  thee  rest  upon  his  breast,  he  flings  the  veil 

away  : 
Thy  home  wherefore  make  evermore  this  mansion  of 

decay  ? 


Poems.  239 

O  contemplate   thy  true  estate,  enlarge    thyself,  and 

rove 
From   this   dark   world,  thy  prison,  whirled    to    that 

celestial  grove. 
O  honored  guest  in  Love's  high  feast,  O  bird  of  the 

angel  sphere, 
'Tis  cause  to  weep,  if  thou  wilt  keep  thy  habitation 

here. 
A  voice  at  morn  to  thee  is  borne  —  God  whispers  to 

the  soul  — 
"  If  on  the  way  the  dust  thou  lay,  thou  soon  wilt  gain 

the  goal." 
That  road  be  thine  toward  the  Shrine  !  and  lo,  in  bush 

and  brier, 
The  many  slain  by  love  and  pain  in  flower  of  young 

desire, 
Who  on  the  track  fell  wounded  back  and  saw  not,  ere 

the  end, 
A  ray  of  bliss,  a  touch,  a  kiss,  a  token  of  the  Friend  ! 

IX. 

When  my  bier  moveth  on  the  day  of  death, 

Think  not  my  heart  is  in  this  world. 

Do  not  weep  for  me  and  cry,  "  Woe,  woe  ! " 

Thou  wilt  fall  in  the  devil's  snare  :  that  is  woe. 

When    thou    seest    my   hearse,    cry    not,    "  Parted, 

parted  !  " 
Union  and  meeting  are  mine  in  that  hour. 
If  thou  commit  me  to  the  grave,  say  not,  "  Farewell, 

farewell ! " 


240  Rumi. 

For  the  grave  is  a  curtain  hiding  the  communion  of 

Paradise. 
After  beholding  descent,  consider  resurrection ; 
Why  should  setting  be  injurious  to  the  sun  and  moon? 
To  thee  it  seems  a  setting,  but  'tis  a  rising : 
Though  the  vault  seems  a  prison,  'tis  the  release  of  the 

soul. 
What  seed  went  down  into  the  earth  but  it  grew? 
Why  this  doubt  of  thine  as  regards  the  seed  of  man? 
What  bucket  was  lowered  but  it  came  out  brimful  ? 
Why  should  the  Joseph  of  the  spirit  complain  of  the 

well? 
Shut  thy  mouth  on  this  side  and  open  it  beyond, 
For  in  placeless  air  will  be  thy  triumphal  song. 


From  the  bosom  of  Self  I  catch  continually  a  scent  of 

the  Beloved : 
How  should  I  not,  every  night,  take  Self  to  my  bosom  ? 
Yestereve  I  was  in  Love's  garden :  this  desire  came 

into  my  head  : 
His  sun  peeped  forth  from  mine  eye  :  the  river  (of 

tears)  began  to  flow. 
Each  laughing  rose  that  springs  from  his  laughing  lip 
Had  escaped  the  thorn  of  being,  had  avoided  Dhu 

'lnqar.1 

1  Famous  sword  given  by  Mohammed  to  Ali,  used  here  as  death, 
corruption. 


Poems.  241 

Every   tree   and   blade   of  grass  was  dancing  in  the 

meadow, 
But  in  the  view  of  the  vulgar  they  were  bound  and  at 

rest. 
Suddenly  on  one  side  our  Cypress  appeared, 
So   that  the  garden  became  senseless  and  the  plane 

clapped  its  hands. 
A  face  like  fire,  wine  like  fire,  Love  afire  —  all  three 

delectable  ; 
The  soul,  by  reason  of  the  mingled  fires,  was 'wailing, 

"Where  shall  I  flee  ?  " 
In  the  world  of  Divine  Unity  is  no  room  for  Number, 
But  Number  necessarily  exists  in  the  world  of  Five  and 

Four. 
You  may  count  a  hundred  thousand  sweet  apples  in 

your  hand  : 
If  you  wish  to  make  One,  crush  them  all  together. 
Behold,  without  regarding  the  letters,  what  is  this  lan- 
guage in  the  heart ; 
Pureness  of  color  is  a  quality  derived  from  the  Source 

of  Action. 
Shamsi  Tabriz  is  seated  in  royal  state,  and  before  him 
My  rhymes  are  ranked  like  willing  servants. 


XI. 

Thee  I  choose,  of  all  the  world,  alone ; 

Wilt  thou  suffer  me  to  sit  in  grief  ? 

My  heart  is  as  a  pen  in  thy  hand, 

Thou  art  the  cause  if  I  am  glad  or  melancholy. 


242  Rumi. 

Save  what  thou  wiliest,  what  will  have  I? 

Save  what  thou  showest,  what  do  I  see? 

Thou  mak'st  grow  out  of  me  now  a  thorn  and  now  a  rose 

Now  I  smell  roses  and  now  pull  thorns. 

If  thou  keep'st  me  that,  that  I  am ; 

If  thou  would'st  have  me  this,  I  am  this. 

In  the  vessel  where  thou  givest  color  to  the  soul 

Who  am  I,  what  is  my  love  and  hate? 


XII. 


I  am  a  painter,  a  maker  of  pictures  :  every  moment  I 

shape  a  beauteous  form, 
And  then  in  thy  presence  I  melt  them  all  away. 
I  call  up  a  hundred  phantoms  and  indue  them  with  a 

spirit ; 
When  I  behold  thy  phantom,  I  cast  them  in  the  fire. 
Art  thou  the  Vintner's  cup-bearer  or  the  enemy  of  him 

who  is  sober, 
Or  is  it  thou  who  mak'st  a  ruin  of  every  house  I  build  ? 
In  thee  the  soul  is  dissolved,  with  thee  it  is  mingled  ; 
Lo  !  I  will  cherish  the  soul,  because  it  has  a  perfume 

of  thee. 
Every  drop  of  blood  which  proceeds  from  me  is  saying 

to  thy  dust : 
"  I  am  one  color  with  thy  love,  I  am  the  partner  of  thy 

affection." 
In  the  house  of  water  and  clay  this  heart  is  desolate 

without  thee ; 
O  Beloved,  enter  the  house,  or  I  will  leave  it. 


Poetns.  243 


XIII. 

t> 

This  is  Love  :  to  fly  heavenward. 

To  rend,  every  instant,  a  hundred  veils. 

The  first  moment,  to  renounce  life ; 

The  last  step,  to  fare  without  feet. 

To  regard  this  world  as  invisible, 

Not  to  see  what  appears  to  one's  self. 

"  O  heart,"  I  said,  "  may  it  bless  thee 

To  have  entered  the  circle  of  lovers, 

To  look  beyond  the  range  of  the  eye, 

To  penetrate  the  windings  of  the  bosom  ! 

Whence  did  this  breath  come  to  thee,  O  my  soul, 

Whence  this  throbbing,  O  my  heart? 

0  bird,  speak  the  language  of  birds  : 

1  can  understand  thy  hidden  meaning." 

The  soul  answered  :  "  I  was  in  the  (divine)  Factory 
While  the  house  of  water  and  clay  was  a-baking. 
I  was  a  flying  away  from  the  (material)  workshop 
While  the  workshop  was  being  created. 
When  I  could  resist  no  more,  they  dragged  me 
To  mould  me  into  shape  like  a  ball." 


XIV. 


Happy  the  moment  when  we  are  seated  in  the  palace, 

thou  and  I, 
With  two  forms  and  with  two  figures  but  with   one 

soul,  thou  and  I. 


244  Rumi. 

The  colors  of  the  grove  and  the  voice  of  the  birds 

will  bestow  immortality 
At  the  time  when  we  come  into  the  garden,  thou  and 

I. 
The  stars  of  heaven  will  come  to  gaze  upon  us ; 
We  shall  show  them  the  moon  itself,  thou  and  I. 
Thou  and  I,  individuals  no  more,  shall  be  mingled  in 

ecstasy, 
Joyful,  and  secure  from  foolish  babble,  thou  and  I. 
All  the  bright-plumed  birds  of  heaven  will  devour  their 

hearts  with  envy 
In  the  place  where  we  shall  laugh  in  such  a  fashion, 

thou  and  I. 
This  is  the  greatest  wonder,  that  thou  and  I,  sitting 

here  in  the  same  nook, 
Are  at  this  moment  both  in  'Iraq  and  Khorasan,  thou 

and  I. 


xv. 

O  my  soul,  who  is  this,  stationed  in  the  house  of  the 
heart? 

Who  may  occupy  the  royal  seat  save  the  King  and  the 
Prince? 

He  beckoned  with  his  hand  :  "  Say,  what  do  you  desire 
of  me?" 

What  does  a  drunken  man  desire  except  sweetmeats 
and  a  cup  of  wine  ? 

Sweetmeats  derived  from  the  soul,  a  cup  of  the  Abso- 
lute Light, 


Poems.  245 

An  eternal  banquet  laid  in  the  privacy  of  "  He  is  the 

Truth." 
How  many  deceivers  are  there  at  the  wine-drinkers' 

feast ! 
Take  heed  lest  thou  fall,  O  easy  simple  man! 
Beware  !    do  not  keep,  in  a  circle  of  reprobates, 
Thine  eye  shut  like  a  bud,  thy  mouth  open  like  the 

rose. 
The  world  resembles  a  mirror  :  thy  Love  is  the  perfect 

image ; 
O  people,  who  has  ever  seen  a  part  greater  than  the 

whole  ? 
Go  on  foot,  like  the  grass,  because  in  this  garden 
The  Beloved,  like  the  rose,  is  riding,  all  the  rest  are  on 

foot. 
He  is  both  the  sword  and  the  swordsman,  both  the 

slain  and  the  slayer, 
He  is  at  once  all  Reason  and  brings  Reason  to  nought. 
That  King  is  Salahu'ddin1 — may  he  endure  forever, 
May  his  bounteous  hand  perpetually  be  a  necklace  on 

my  neck  ! 

XVI. 

At  last  thou  hast  departed  and  gone  to  the  Unseen ; 
'Tis  marvellous  by  what  way  thou  wentest  from  the 

world. 
Thou  didst  strongly  shake  thy  wings  and  feathers,  and 

having  broken  thy  cage 

1  Salahu'ddin  Zarkub  (Goldsmith).     See   Redhouse's   Masnavi, 
p.  no. 


246  Rumi. 

Didst  take  to  the  air  and  journey  toward  the  world  of 

soul. 
Thou  wert  a  favorite  falcon,  kept  in  captivity  by  an 

old  woman  : 
When  thou  heard'st  the  falcon-drum  thou  didst  fly  away 

into  the  Void. 
Thou  wert  a  love-lorn  nightingale  among  owls : 
The  scent  of  the  rose-garden  reached  thee,  and  thou 

didst  go  to  the  rose-garden. 
Thou  didst  suffer  sore  headache  from  this  bitter  fer- 
ment ; 
At  last  thou  wentest  to  the  tavern  of  Eternity. 
Straight  as  an  arrow  thou  didst  make  for  the  mark  of 

bliss ; 
Thou  didst  speed  like  an  arrow  to  that  mark  from  this 

bow. 
The  world  gave  thee  false  clews,  like  a  ghoul : 
Thou  took'st  no  heed  of  the  clew,  but  wentest  to  that 

which  is  without  a  clew. 
Since  thou  art  now  the  sun,  why  dost  thou  wear  a  tiara, 
Why  seek  a  girdle,  since    thou    art   gone    from    the 

middle? 
I  have  heard  that  thou  art  gazing  with  distorted  eyes 

upon  thy  soul : 
Why  dost  thou  gaze  on  thy  soul,  since  thou  art  gone 

to  the  soul  of  Soul  ? 
O  heart,  what  a  wondrous  bird  art  thou,  that  in  chase 

of  divine  rewards 
Thou  didst  fly  with  two  wings  to  the  spear  point,  like 

a  shield  ! 


Poems.  247 

The  rose  flees  from  autumn —  O  what  a  fearless  rose 
art  thou 

Who  didst  go  loitering  along  in  the  presence  of  the 
autumn  wind  ! 

Falling  like  rain  from  heaven  upon  the  roof  of  the  ter- 
restrial world 

Thou  didst  run  in  every  direction  till  thou  didst  escape 
by  the  conduit. 

Be  silent  and  free  from  the  pain  of  speech  :  do  not 
slumber, 

Since  thou  hast  taken  refuge  with  so  loving  a  Friend. 


ESSEDI. 

This  poet  is  said  to  have  had  the  distinction  of  being 
Firdausi's  teacher.  He  was  one  of  the  bright  particular 
stars  at  the  court  of  the  great  Mahmud  of  Ghazni,  but 
later  his  famous  pupil  completely  outshone  him. 

The  Sultan,  it  seems,  had  frequently  urged  Essedi  to 
write  the  Shah-Nameh,  but  the  poet  always  refused,  plead- 
ing his  old  age  as  an  excuse.  However,  in  spite  of  his  age 
he  outlived  Firdausi,  and  wrote,  for  his  dying  pupil,  the 
last  four  thousand  couplets  of  the  Shah-Nameh. 

The  story  goes  that  when  Firdausi  was  on  his  death-bed 
at  Tus,  he  sent  for  his  old  master  and  told  him  that  he 
feared  that  he  would  never  live  to  complete  the  Shah- 
Nameh.  And  if  he  did  not  finish  it  who  would  ?  Essedi 
answered,  "My  son,  be  not  grieved;  if  I  live,  I  will  finish 
it.,,  Firdausi  rejoined,  "  You  are  old,  and  can  scarcely 
do  so.1'  But  Essedi  in  two  days1  time  composed  the  four 
thousand  couplets,  and  Firdausi  saw  them  before  he  died. 

That  Essedi  did  help  Firdausi  there  can  be  no  doubt, 
but  exactly  to  what  extent  has  never  been  satisfactorily 
proved. 

His  most  celebrated  poem  is  the  dispute  between  Day 
and  Night. 

DAY  AND   NIGHT.1 

Day  and  Night,  who  each  can  yield 

Joy  and  solace  to  the  earth, 
Thus  contended  for  the  field, 

l  Taken  from  Miss  Costello's  Rose  Garden  of  Persia. 
248 


Day  and  Night.  249 

Claiming  both  the  highest  birth  — 
Night  spoke  frowningly  :   "  'Twas  I 
Who  from  all  eternity 
Ruled  the  chaos  of  the  world, 
When  in  dim  confusion  hurled. 
The  fervent  prayer  is  heard  at  night ; 
Devotion  flies  day's  glaring  light. 
'Twas  night,  the  Mount  when  Moses  left ; 

At  night  was  Lot  avenged  by  fire  : 
At  night  the  moon  our  prophet  cleft, 

And  saw  Heaven's  might  revealed  entire. 
The  lovely  moon  for  thirty  days 

Spreads  radiant  glory  from  afar  : 
Her  charms  forever  night  displays, 

Crowned,  like  a  queen,  with  many  a  star ; 
Her  seal-bearer  is  Heav'n,  a  band 
Of  planets  wait  oa  her  command. 
Day  can  but  paint  the  skies  with  blue, 
Night's  starry  hosts  amaze  the  view. 
Man  measures  time  but  by  the  moon ; 
Night  shrouds  what  day  reveals  too  soon. 
Day  is  with  toil  and  care  oppressed, 
Night  comes,  and,  with  her,  gentle  rest. 
Day,  busy  still,  no  praise  can  bring, 
All  night  the  saints  their  anthems  sing ; 
Her  shade  is  cast  by  Gabriel's  wing  ! 
The  moon  is  pure,  the  sun's  broad  face 
Dark  and  unsightly  spots  deface : 
The  sun  shines  on  with  changeless  glare, 
The  moon  is  ever  new  and  fair." 


250  Essedi. 

Day  rose,  and  smiled  in  high  disdain  :  — 
"  Cease  all  this  boasting,  void  and  vain ; 
The  Lord  of  Heaven,  and  earth,  and  thee 

Gave  me  a  place  more  proud  than  thine, 
And  men  with  joy  my  rising  see, 

And  hail  the  beams  that  round  me  shine. 
The  holy  pilgrim  takes  by  day 
To  many  a  sacred  shrine  his  way ; 
By  day  the  pious  fast  and  pray ; 
And  solemn  feasts  are  held  by  day. 
On  the  Last  Day  the  world's  career  is  run, 
As  on  the  First  its  being  was  begun. 
Thou,  Night,  art  friendly,  it  may  be, 
For  lovers  fly  for  help  to  thee. 
When  do  the  sick  thy  healing  see  ? 
Thieves,  by  thy  aid,  may  scathless  prowl ; 
Sacred  to  thee  the  bat  and  owl ; 
And,  led  by  thee,  pale  spectres  grimly  howl ! 
I  sprang  from  Heaven,  from  dust  thou  art, 

Light  crowns  my  head  with  many  a  gem ; 
The  collier's  cap  is  on  thy  brow  — 

For  thee  a  fitting  diadem. 
My  presence  fills  the  world  with  joy ; 
Thou  com'st  all  comfort  to  annoy. 
I  am  a  Moslem  —  white  my  vest : 
Thou  a  vile  thief,  in  sable  drest. 
Out  negro-face  !  —  dar'st  thou  compare 
Thy  cheeks  with  mine,  so  purely  fair? 
Those  '  hosts  of  stars,'  thy  boast  and  pride, 
How  do  they  rush  their  sparks  to  hide, 


Day  and  Night.  251 

How  to  their  native  darkness  run, 
When,  in  his  glory,  comes  the  sun  ! 
True,  death  wasy^n-//  but,  tell  me,  who 
Thinks  life  least  worthy  of  the  two  ? 
'Tis  by  the  moon  the  Arab  counts ; 

The  lordly  Persian  tells  his  year 
By  the  bright  sun,  that  proudly  mounts 

The  yielding  heavens,  so  wide  and  clear. 
The  sun  is  ruddy,  strong,  and  hale ; 
The  moon  is  sickly,  wan,  and  pale. 
Methinks  'twas  ne'er  in  story  told 
That  silver  had  the  worth  of  gold  ! 
The  moon,  a  slave,  is  bowed  and  bent, 
She  knows  her  light  is  only  lent ; 
She  hurries  on,  the  way  to  clear 
Till  the  great  Shah  himself  appear. 
What  canst  thou,  idle  boaster,  say 
To  prove  the  night  excels  the  day? 
If  stubborn  still,  let  Him  decide 
With  whom  all  truth  and  law  abide ; 
Let  Nasur  Ahmed,  wise  as  great, 
Pronounce,  and  give  to  each  his  state." 


SA'DI. 

Shaikh  Sa'di,  the  nightingale  of  Shiraz,  as  Jami  poeti- 
cally calls  this  gifted  poet,  was  born  at  Shiraz,  the  capital 
of  Persia,  near  the  end  of  the  twelfth  century.  All  biogra- 
phers agree  that  he  lived  to  be  over  a  hundred  years  old, 
Daulat  Shah  even  crediting  him  with  a  hundred  and  twenty 
years.  Shaikh  Muslih-ud-Din,  for  that  is  Sa'di's  real 
name,  was  patronized  by  Atabak  Sad-ibn-Zangi,  the  Vice- 
roy of  Persia,  hence  his  takhallus,  SaW;  to  which  was 
added  as  a  great  honor  the  title  of  Shaikh.  At  this  time 
the  college  at  Baghdad  was  the  great  educational  centre  of 
the  East,  and  there  Sa'di  was  educated.  He  was  of  a 
religious  temperament  and  is  said  to  have  made  fourteen 
pilgrimages  to  Mecca.  These  journeys  took  place  during 
the  second  period  of  his  life,  for  most  writers  divide  SaMi's 
life  into  three  parts  :  the  first  devoted  to  study,  the  second 
to  travel,  and  the  third  to  seclusion,  for  at  Shiraz  he  built 
himself  a  hermitage  and  there,  when  over  sixty,  he  devoted 
himself  to  his  great  literary  career.  Emerson,  comment- 
ing on  his  varied  experience,  says  :  "  By  turns,  a  student,  a 
water-carrier,  a  traveller,  a  soldier  fighting  against  the  Chris- 
tians in  the  Crusades,  a  prisoner  employed  to  dig  trenches 
before  Tripoli,  and  an  honored  poet  in  his  protracted  old 
age  at  home,  —  his  varied  and  severe  experience  took  away 
all  provincial  tone,  and  gave  him  a  facility  of  speaking  to 
all  conditions.  But  the  commanding  reason  of  his  wider 
popularity  is  his  deeper  sense,  which,  in  his  treatment, 
expands  the  local  forms  and  tints  to  a  cosmopolitan 
breadth.     Through  his  Persian  dialect   he  speaks  to  all 

253 


254  Sa'di. 

nations,  and,  like  Homer,  Shakespeare,  Cervantes,  and 
Montaigne,  is  perpetually  modern.11  Indeed,  "He  has 
furnished  the  originals  of  a  multitude  of  tales  and  proverbs 
which  are  current  in  our  mouths,  and  attributed  by  us  to 
recent  writers  ;  as,  for  example,  the  story  of  '  Abraham  and 
the  Fire-worshippers,1  once  claimed  for  Doctor  Franklin, 
and  afterward  traced  to  Jeremy  Taylor,  who  probably 
found  it  in  Olearius.11 

His  works  number  twenty-four.1  Among  those  best 
known  are  the  Gulistan,  or  Rose  Garden,  and  the  Bustan, 
or  the  Garden  of  Perfume.  The  Gulistan  is  a  collection 
of  short  pithy  stories,  based  on  Sadi's  own  varied  experi- 
ences, and  read,  it  is  said,  from  the  middle  of  China  to  the 
extreme  corners  of  Africa,  forming  as  it  does  the  basis 
of  instruction  in  Mohammedan  schools.  In  his  Preface 
to  the  Gulistan,  Sa'di  tells  how  he  came  to  write  the 
book.  "  .  .  .  It  happened  once,  that  I  was  benighted  in 
a  garden,  in  company  with  one  of  my  friends.  The  spot 
was  delightful,  the  trees  intertwined  ;  you  would  have  said 
that  the  earth  was  bedecked  with  glass  spangles,  and  that 
the  knot  of  the  Pleiades  was  suspended  from  the  branch 
of  the  vine.  A  garden  with  a  running  stream,  and  trees 
from  whence  birds  were  warbling  melodious  strains  :  that 
filled  with  tulips  of  various  hues ;  these  loaded  with  fruits 
of  several  kinds.  Under  the  shade  of  its  trees  the  zephyr 
had  spread  the  variegated  carpet.  In  the  morning,  when 
the  desire  to  return  home  overcame  our  inclination  for 
remaining,  I  saw  in  his  lap  a  collection  of  roses,  odorifer- 
ous herbs,  and  hyacinths,  which  he  had  intended  to  carry 
to  town.  I  said,  •  You  are  not  ignorant  of  the  fact  that  the 
flower  of  the  garden  soon  fadeth,  and  that  the  enjoyment  of 
the  rosebush  is  but  of  short  continuance ;  and  the  sages 
have  declared  that  the  heart  ought  not  to  be  set  upon 
anything  that  is  transitory.1  He  asked,  '  What  course  is 
then  to  be  pursued  ? '      I  replied :  '  I  am  able  to  form  a 

1  Sir  Gore  Ouseley  in  his  Biographical  Aotices  of  Persian  Poets. 


Sa'di.  255 

book  of  roses,  which  will  delight  the  beholders,  and  gratify 
those  who  are  present ;  whose  leaves  the  tyrannic  arm  of 
the  autumnal  blasts  can  never  affect,  nor  injure  the  blossoms 
of  its  spring.  What  benefit  will  you  derive  from  a  basket 
of  flowers  ?  Carry  a  leaf  from  my  garden  :  a  rose  may 
continue  in  bloom  for  live  or  six  days  ;  but  this  rose  garden 
will  flourish  forever.'  As.  soon  as  I  had  uttered  these 
words,  he  flung  the  flowers  from  his  lap,  and,  laying  hold 
of  the  skirt  of  my  garment,  exclaimed,  'When  the  benefi- 
cent promise,  they  faithfully  discharge  their  engagements. ' 
In  the  course  of  a  few  days,  two  chapters  (one  on  the  com- 
forts of  society,  and  the  other  containing  rules  for  conver- 
sation) were  written  out  in  my  note-book,  in  a  style  that 
may  be  useful  to  orators,  and  improve  the  skill  of  letter- 
writers.  In  short,  whilst  the  rose  was  yet  in  bloom,  the 
book  entitled  the  Rose  Garden  was  finished." 1 

The  Bustan,  Sa'di's  other  famous  work,  is  also  used  as  a 
text-book  in  military  and  civil  examinations,  and  consists 
of  ten  chapters  of  didactic  verse.  The  remarkable  fact 
about  his  writings  is  the  extremely  simple  way  in  which 
they  are  expressed.  He  took  his  lessons  from  the  world; 
indeed  he  went  so  far  in  his  zeal  to  experience  all  things 
personally  that  he  at  one  time  assumed  the  religion  of  the 
worshippers  of  Vishnu,  a  sect  for  which  he  really  had  no 
sympathy.  The  story  of  this  assumed  conversion  is  told 
in  his  Bustan.2 

Saxli  became  a  confirmed  woman-hater,  owing  probably 
to  his  two  unfortunate  marriages'  He  himself  has  given 
us  a  graphic  account  of  his  first  marriage  in  the  Gulistan* 
as  well  as  a  most  lovely  lament  on  the  death  of  his  only 
son.4     His  daughter  lived  to  marry  the  famous  Hafiz. 

Taking  his  writings  as  a  whole,  one  may  say  that  Sa'di's 
creed  was  cheerfulness  and  contentment.  In  fact  he  him- 
self tells  us  that  he  was  never  discontented  but  once  in  his 

i  Gladwin's  translation.  3  See  page  280. 

2  See  page  332.  4  See  page  325. 


256  Sa'di. 

life,  when  he  grumbled  because  he  had  no  shoes.  But 
shortly  after  he  met  a  man  who  had  no  feet.  His  grumbling 
ceased. 

This  dervish  wit  and  linguist  the  Mohammedans  wor- 
shipped as  a  saint,  even  attributing  miracles  to  him.  His 
body  now  lies  entombed  in  the  valley  of  Shiraz,  and  is 
daily  visited  by  devout  pilgrims  who  say  of  him,  in  true 
Oriental  fashion,  that  he  "  perforated  with  the  diamond  of 
his  soul  the  precious  stones  of  his  experiences,  and,  after 
gathering  them  on  the  string  of  eloquence,  hung  them  for 
a  talisman  round  the  neck  of  posterity." 


GULISTAN  ;  OR,  ROSE  GARDEN.1 

Preface. 

The    Glorious   Qualities  of  the  Monarch  of  the  True 

Faith    (May   God  make  clear  its  Demonstration) 

Abu-Bakr-bin-Sad-bin-Zangi? 

The  fair  report  of  Sa'di,  which  is  celebrated  by  the 

general  voice ;  and  the  fame  of  his  sayings,  which  has 

travelled  the  whole  surface  of  the  earth  ;  and  the  loved 

reed,3  which   imparts  his    discourse,  and  which   they 

devour  like   honey;  and  the  manner  in  which   men 

carry  off  the  scraps  of  his  writing,  as  though  they  were 

1  Selections  from  Edward  B.  Eastwick's  translation. 

2  Bin,  ben,  or  ibn  signifies  "  son  of." 

3  The  Oriental  kalam  (calamus)  or  pen  is,  as  every  one  knows,  a 
reed.  This  leads  to  various  poetical  fantasies.  Thus  Maulavi 
Rumi, 

"  Hear  the  reed's  complaining  wail ! 
Hear  it  tell  its  mournful  tale ! 
Torn  from  the  spot  it  loved  so  well, 
Its  grief,  its  sighs,  our  tears  compel." 


Gulistan ;  or,  Rose  Garden.  257 

gold  leaf — are  not  to  be  ascribed  to  the  perfection  of 
his  own  excellence  or  eloquence,  but  [to  this,  that] 
the  Lord  of  the  Earth,  the  Axis  of  the  Revolution  of 
Time,  the  Successor  of  Suliman,  the  Defender  of  the 
People  of  the  True  Faith,  the  Puissant  King  of  Kings, 
the  Great  Atabak  l  Muzaffaru'd-din  Abu-Bakr-bin-Sad- 
bin-Zangi,  God's  shadow  on  earth  (O  God!  approve 
him  and  his  desires  /)  has  regarded  him  with  extreme 
condescension  and  bestowed  on  him  lavish  commen- 
dation, and  evinced  a  sincere  regard  for  him.  Of  a 
verity,  from  attachment  to  him,  all  people,  both  high 
and  low,  have  become  favorably  inclined  toward  me, 
since  men  adopt  the  sentiments  of  their  kings? 

Quatrain. 

Since  to  my  lowliness  thou  didst  with  favor  turn, 
My  track  is  clearer  than  the  sun's  bright  beam. 

Though  in  thy  servant  all  might  every  fault  discern ; 
When  kings  approve,  e'en  vices  virtues  seem. 

Verse. 

'Twas  in  the  bath,  a  piece  of  perfumed  clay 

Came  from  my  loved  one's  hands  to  mine,  one  day. 

"  Art  thou  then  musk  or  ambergris  ?  "  I  said  ; 

1  Atabak  is  a  Turkish  word  signifying  "  father  of  the  prince."  It 
was  originally  applied  to  a  prime  minister  or  great  noble  of  state.  It 
afterward  became  the  title  of  a  dynasty  of  Persian  kings,  originally 
Turkomans,  who  reigned  from  1148  to  1264  A.D.  To  the  sixth  of 
these,  Sad-bin-Zangi,  Sa'di  dedicates  his  Gulistan.  He  reigned 
thirty-five  years,  and  died  A.D.  1259. 

2  A  quotation  from  the  Koran. 


258  Sa'di. 

"  That  by  thy  scent  my  soul  is  ravished  ?  " 

"  Not  so,"  it  answered,  "  worthless  earth  was  I, 

But  long  I  kept  the  rose's  company ; 

Thus  near,  its  perfect  fragrance  to  me  came,   • 

Else  I'm  but  earth,  the  worthless  and  the  same."1 


Story. 

A  king  was  seated  in  a  vessel  with  a  Persian  slave. 
The  slave  had  never  before  beheld  the  sea,  nor  expe- 
rienced the  inconvenience  of  a  ship.  He  began  to 
weep  and  bemoan  himself,  and  a  tremor  pervaded  his 
frame.  In  spite  of  their  endeavors  to  soothe  him,  he 
would  not  be  quieted.  The  comfort  of  the  king  was 
disturbed  by  him  ;  but  they  could  not  devise  a  remedy. 
In  the  ship  there  was  a  philosopher,  who  said,  "  If  you 
command,  I  will  silence  him."  The  king  answered, 
"  It  would  be  the  greatest  favor."  The  philosopher 
directed  them  to  cast  the  slave  into  the  sea.  He 
underwent  several  submersions,  and  they  then  took 
him  by  the  hair  and  dragged  him  toward  the  ship. 
He  clung  to  the  rudder  of  the  vessel  with  both  hands, 
and  they  then  pulled  him  on  board  again.  When  he 
had  come  on  board,  he  seated  himself  in  a  corner  and 
kept  quiet.  The  king  approved,  and  asked,  "What 
was  the  secret  of  this  expedient  ?  "  The  philosopher 
replied,  "  At  first  he  had  not  tasted  the  agony  of  drown- 

1  By  this  simile,  which  in  the  original  is  of  exquisite  beauty,  Sa'di 
would  express  his  own  unworthiness,  and  the  estimation  imparted 
to  him  by  the  king's  favor. 


Gulistan ;  or,  Rose  Garden.  259 

ing,  and  knew  not  the  value  of  the  safety  of  a  vessel. 
In  the  same  manner  a  person  who  is  overtaken  by 
calamity  learns  to  value  a  state  of  freedom  from  ill." 

Stanza. 

Sated,  thou  wilt  my  barley-loaf  repel. 

She  whom  I  love  ill-favored  seems  to  thee. 
To  Eden's  Houris  Iraf  would  seem  hell : 

Hell's  inmates  ask  —  they'll  call  it  heavenly. 

Couplet. 

Wide  is  the  space  'twixt  him  who  clasps  his  love, 
And  him  whose  eyes  watch  for  the  door  to  move.1 

Story. 

In  a  certain  year  I  was  engaged  in  devotion  at  the 
tomb  of  the  Prophet  Yahiya, 2  in  the  principal  mosque 
of  Damascus.  It  happened  that  one  of  the  Arabian 
princes,  who  was  notorious  for  his  injustice,  came  as  a 
pilgrim  thither,  performed  his  prayers,  and  asked  [of 
God]  what  he  stood  in  need  of. 

Couplet. 

The  poor,  the  rich,  alike  must  here  adore  : 
The  wealthier  they,  their  need  is  here  the  more. 

1  In  expectation  of  seeing  his  loved  one  come  in. 

2  St.  John  the  Baptist,  whose  remains  were  said  to  be  interred  in  a 
church  at  Damascus.  After  the  conquest  of  Syria  by  the  Mussulman, 
this  church  was  converted  into  a  mosque,  and  called  the  mosque  of 
the  tribe  of  Ummiyah. 


260  Sa'di. 

He  then  turned  toward  me  and  said,  "  On  account  of 
the  generous  character  of  dervishes,  and  the  sincerity 
of  their  dealings,  I  ask  you  to  give  me  the  aid  of  your 
spirit,  for  I  stand  in  dread  of  a  powerful  enemy."  I 
replied,  "  Show  mercy  to  thy  weak  subjects,  that  thou 
mayst  not  experience  annoyance  from  a  puissant  foe." 

Verse. 

With  the  strong  arm  and  giant  grasp  'tis  wrong 

To  crush  the  feeble,  unresisting  throng. 

Who  pities  not  the  fallen,  let  him  fear, 

Lest,  if  he  fall,  no  friendly  hand  be  near. 

Who  sows  ill  actions  and  of  blessing  dreams, 

Fosters  vain  fantasies  and  idly  schemes. 

Unstop  thy  ears,  thy  people's  wants  relieve, 

If  not,  a  day  1  shall  come  when  all  their  rights  receive. 

Di sticks. 

All  Adam's  race  are  members  of  one  frame ; 
Since  all,  at  first,  from  the  same  essence  came. 
When  by  hard  fortune  one  limb  is  oppressed, 
The  other  members  lose  their  wonted  rest : 
If  thou  feel'st  not  for  others'  misery, 
A  son  of  Adam  is  no  name  for  thee. 

Story. 

One  of  my  companions  came  to  me  with  complaints 
of  his  ill-fortune,  saying,  "  I  have  but  little  means  of 

iThat  is,  the  day  of  resurrection. 


Giilistan;  or,  Rose  Garden.  261 

subsistence,  and  a  large  family,  and  I  cannot  support 
the  burden  of  poverty ;  it  has  frequently  entered  my 
head  that  I  would  go  to  another  country,  in  order  that, 
live  how  I  may,  no  one  may  know  of  my  welfare  or 
the  reverse. 

Couplet. 

Full  many  a  starving  wight  has  slept l  unknown ; 
Full  many  a  spirit  fled  that  none  bemoan. 

Again,  I  am  in  dread  of  the  rejoicing  of  my  enemies, 
lest  they  should  laugh  scoffingly  at  me  behind  my  back, 
and  impute  my  exertions  in  behalf  of  my  family  to  a 
want  of  humanity,  and  say, 

Stanza. 

See  now,  that  wretch  devoid  of  shame  !  for  him 
Fair  fortune's  face  will  smile  not,  nor  has  smiled ; 

Himself  he  pampers  in  each  selfish  whim, 

And  leaves  his  hardships  to  his  wife  and  child. 

"  And  I  know  something,  as  you  are  aware,  of  the 
science  of  accounts ;  if  by  your  interest  a  means  [of 
subsistence]  could  be  afforded  me,  which  might  put 
me  at  ease,  I  should  not  be  able  to  express  my  grati- 
tude sufficiently  to  the  end  of  my  life."  I  replied, 
"  O  my  friend  !  the  king's  service  has  two  sides  to  it, 
—  hope  of  a  livelihood,  and  terror  for  one's  life ;  and 
it  is  contrary  to  the  opinion  of  the  wise,  through  such 
a  hope  to  expose  oneself  to  such  a  fear. 

1  Here  used  for  "  died." 


262  Sa'di. 


Stanza. 


None  in  the  poor  man's  hut  demand 
Tax  on  his  garden  or  his  land. 
Be  thou  content  with  toil  and  woe, 
Or  with  thy  entrails  feed  the  crow.  " 

He  replied,  "  These  words  that  thou  hast  spoken  do 
not  apply  to  my  case,  nor  hast  thou  returned  an  answer 
to  my  question.  Hast  thou  not  heard  what  they  have 
said,  '  that  the  hand  of  every  one  who  chooses  to  act 
dishonestly  trembles  in  rendering  the  account'?" 

Couplet. 

God  favors  those  who  follow  the  right  way, 
From  a  straight  road  I  ne'er  saw  mortal  stray. 

"  And  the  sages  have  said,  '  Four  kinds  of  persons  are 
in  deadly  fear  of  four  others  :  the  brigand  of  the  Sul- 
tan, and  the  thief  of  the  watchman,  and  the  adulterer 
of  the  informer,  and  the  harlot  of  the  superintendent 
of  police ; '  and  what  fear  have  those  of  the  settling, 
whose  accounts  are  clear?  " 

Stanza. 

Wouldst  thou  confine  thy  rival's  power  to  harm 
Thee  at  discharge  ?  then  while  thy  trust  remains, 

Be  not  too  free ;  none  shall  thee  then  alarm. 

'Tis  the  soiled  raiment  which,  to  cleanse  from  stains, 
Is  struck  on  stones  and  asks  the  washer's  pains. 


Gulistan ;  or,  Rose  Garden.  263 

I  answered,  "  Applicable  to  thy  case  is  the  story  of 
that  fox  which  people  saw  running  away  in  violent 
trepidation.1  Some  one  said  to  him,  '  What  calamity 
has  happened  to  cause  thee  so  much  alarm  ?  '  He  re- 
plied, '  I  have  heard  they  are  going  to  impress  the 
camel.'  They  rejoined,  '  O  Shatter-brain  !  what  con- 
nection has  a  camel  with  thee,  and  what  resemblance 
hast  thou  to  it  ?  '  He  answered,  '  Peace  !  for  if  the 
envious  should,  to  serve  their  own  ends,  say,  "  This  is 
a  camel,"  and  I  should  be  taken,  who  would  care  about 
my  release  so  as  to  inquire  into  my  condition  ?  and 
before  the  antidote  is  brought  from  Irak,  the  person 
who  is  bitten  by  the  snake  may  be  dead.' 2  And  in  the 
same  way  thou  possessest  merit,  and  good  faith,  and 
piety,  and  uprightness  ;  but  the  envious  are  in  ambush, 
and  the  accusers  are  lurking  in  corners.  If  they 
should  misrepresent  thy  fair  qualities,  and  thou 
shouldst  incur  the  king's  displeasure  and  fall  into  dis- 
grace, who  would  have  power,  in  that  situation  of 
affairs,  to  speak  for  thee?  I  look  upon  it  as  thy  best 
course  to  secure  the  kingdom  of  contentment,  and  to 
abandon  the  idea  of  preferment,  since  the  wise  have 
said, 

Couplet. 
1  Upon  the  sea  'tis  true  is  boundless  gain : 
Wouldst  thou  be  safe*,  upon  the  shore  remain.'  " 

1  Literally,  "  falling  and  rising." 

2  The  tiryak  is  an  antidote  against  poison.  Some  think  it  is  trea- 
cle ;  and  others  the  bezoar-stone.  This  sentence  is  a  proverb  in 
common  use. 


264  Sa'di. 

When  my  friend  heard  these  words  he  was  displeased, 
and  his  countenance  was  overcast,  and  he  began  to 
utter  words  which  bore  marks  of  his  vexation,  saying, 
"  What  judgment,  and  profit,  and  understanding,  and 
knowledge  is  this  ?  and  the  saying  of  the  sages  has 
turned  out  correct,  in  that  they  have  said,  '  Those  are 
useful  friends  who  continue  so  when  we  are  in  prison ; 
for  at  our  table  all  our  enemies  appear  friends.' 


Stanza. 

Think  not  thy  friend  one  who  in  fortune's  hour 
Boasts  of  his  friendship  and  fraternity. 

Him  I  call  friend  who  sums  up  all  his  power 
To  aid  thee  in  distress  and  misery." 

I  saw  that  he  was  troubled,  and  that  my  advice'  was 
taken  in  bad  part.  I  went  to  the  president  of  finance, 
and,  in  accordance  with  our  former  intimacy,  I  told 
him  the  case  ;  in  consequence  of  which  he  appointed 
my  friend  to  some  trifling  office.  Some  time  passed 
away ;  they  saw  the  amenity  of  his  disposition,  and 
approved  his  excellent  judgment.  His  affairs  pros- 
pered, and  he  was  appointed  to  a  superior  post ;  and 
in  the  same  manner  the  star  of  his  prosperity  con- 
tinued to  ascend  until  he  reached  the  summit  of  his 
desires,  and  became  a  confidential  servant  of  his 
Majesty  the  Sultan,  and  the  pointed-at  by  men 's  fingers , 
and  one  in  whom  the  ministers  of  State  placed  their 
confidence.     I  rejoiced  at  his  secure  position  and  said, 


Gulistan ;  or,  Rose  Garden.  265 

Couplet. 

"  Have  no  doubts  because  of  trouble  nor  be  thou  dis- 
comfited ; 

For  the  water  of  life's  fountain1  springeth  from  a 
gloomy  bed. 

Couplet. 

"  Ah!  ye  brothers  of  misfortune!  be  not  ye  with  grief 
oppressed, 

Many  are  the  secret  mercies  which  with  the  All- 
bounteous  rest. 

Couplet. 

"Sit  not  sad  because  that  Time  a  fitful  aspect  vveareth  ; 
Patience  is   most   bitter,  yet  most  sweet  the  fruit    it 
beareth." 

During  this  interval  I  happened  to  accompany  a  num- 
ber of  my  friends  on  a  journey  to  Hijaz.2  When  I  re- 
turned from  the  pilgrimage  to  Mecca  he  came  out  two 
stages  to  meet  me.  I  saw  that  his  outward  appear- 
ance was  one  of  distress,  and  that  he  wore  the  garb 
of  a  dervish.  I  said,  "What  is  thy  condition?"  He 
replied,  "Just  as  thou  said'st :  a  party  became  envious 
of  me,  and  accused  me  of  disloyal  conduct ;  and  the 

1  Mohammedans  believe  in  a  fountain  of  life,  to  taste  one  drop  of 
which  bestows  immortality.  They  say  that  Khizr,  or  Elias,  who,  they 
suppose,  was  the  general  of  the  first  Alexander,  discovered  this  foun- 
tain, and  drank  of  it,  and  hence  he  can  never  die. 

2  Arabia  Petraea. 


266  Sa'di. 

king  did  not  deign  to  inquire  minutely  into  the  explana- 
tion of  the  circumstances  ;  and  my  former  companions, 
and  even  my  sincere  friends,  forbore  to  utter  the  truth, 
and  forgot  their  long  intimacy. 

Stanza. 

When  one  has  fallen  from  high  heaven's  decree, 
The  banded  world  will  trample  on  his  head ; 

Then  fawn  and  fold  their  hands  respectfully, 
When  they  behold  his  steps  by  fortune  led. 

In  short,  I  was  subjected  to  all  kinds  of  tortures  till 
within  this  week  that  the  good  tidings  of  the  safety  of 
the  pilgrims1  arrived,  when  they  granted  me  release 
from  grievous  durance,  with  the  confiscation  of  my 
hereditary  estate."  I  said  :  "  At  that  time  thou  wouldst 
not  receive  my  suggestion,  that  the  service  of  the  king 
is  like  a  sea-voyage,  at  once  profitable  and  fraught  with 
peril ;  where  thou  either  wilt  acquire  a  treasure,  or 
perish  amid  the  billows. 

Couplet. 

Or  with  both  hands  the  merchant  shall  one  day  embrace 

the  gold ; 
Or  by  the  waves  his  lifeless  form  shall  on  the  strand  be 

rolled." 

I  did  not  think  it  right  to  lacerate  his  mental  wounds 
further,  or  to  sprinkle  them  with  salt.  I  confined  my- 
self to  these  two  couplets  and  said, 

1  The  pilgrims  to  Mecca. 


Gulistan ;  or,  Rose  Garden.  267 

Stanza. 

"  Knewest  thou  not  that  thou  wouldsi  see  the  chains 

upon  thy  feet, 
When  a  deaf  ear  thou  turnedst  on  the  counsels  of  the 

wise? 
If  the  torture  of  the  sting  thou  canst  not  with  courage 

meet, 
Place  not  thy  finger   in   the   hole   where   the   sullen 

scorpion  lies." 

Story. 

A  person  had  reached  perfection  in  the  art  of 
wrestling.  He  knew  three  hundred  and  sixty  precious 
sleights  in  this  art,  and  every  day  he  wrestled  with  a 
different  device.  However,  his  heart  was  inclined 
toward  the  beauty  of  one  of  his  pupils.  He  taught 
him  three  hundred  and  fifty-nine  throws,  all  he  knew 
save  one,  the  teaching  of  which  he  deferred.  The 
youth  was  perfect  in  skill  and  strength,  and  no  one 
could  withstand  him,  till  he  at  length  boasted  before 
the  Sultan  that  he  allowed  the  superiority  of  his  master 
over  him  only  out  of  respect  to  his  years,  and  what  was 
due  to  him  as  »n  instructor,  and  that  but  for  that  he 
was  not  inferior  in  strength,  and  on  a  par  with  him  in 
skill.  The  king  was  displeased  at  his  breach  of  respect, 
and  he  commanded  them  to  wrestle.  A  vast  arena  was 
selected.  The  great  nobles  and  ministers  of  the  king 
attended.    The  youth  entered,  like  a  furious  elephant, 


268  Sa'di. 

with  a  shock  that  had  his  adversary  been  a  mountain  ot 
iron  would  have  uptorn  it  from  its  base.  The  master 
perceived  that  the  young  man  was  his  superior  in 
strength.  He  fastened  on  him  with  that  curious  grip 
which  he  had  kept  concealed  from  him.  The  youth 
knew  not  how  to  foil  it.  The  preceptor  lifted  him 
with  both  hands  from  the  ground,  and  raised  him  above 
his  head,  and  dashed  him  on  the  ground.  A  shout  of 
applause  arose  from  the  multitude.  The  king  com- 
manded them  to  bestow  a  robe  of  honor  and  reward 
on  the  master,  and  heaped  reproaches  on  the  youth, 
saying,  u  Thou  hast  presumed  to  encounter  him  who 
educated  thee,  and  thou  hast  failed."  He  replied, 
"  Sire  !  my  master  overcame  me,  not  by  strength  or 
power,  but  a  small  point  was  left  in  the  art  of  wrest- 
ling which  he  withheld  from  me ;  and  by  this  trifle  he 
has  to-day  gotten  the  victory  over  me."  The  pre- 
ceptor said,  "  I  reserved  it  for  such  a  day  as  this  ;  for 
the  sages  have  said,  '  Give  not  thy  friend  so  much 
power  that  if  one  day  he  should  become  a  foe,  thou 
mayst  not  be  able  to  resist  him.'  Hast  thou  not  heard 
what  once  was  said  by  one  who  had  suffered  wrong 
from  a  pupil  of  his  own  ? 

• 
Stanza. 

'  On  earth  there  is  no  gratitude,  I  trow ; 

Or  none,  perhaps,  to  use  it  now  pretend. 
None  learn  of  me  the  science  of  the  bow, 

Who  make  me  not  their  target  in  the  end.' " 


Gulistan ;  or,  Rose  Garden.'  269 

Story. 

A  king  gave  an  order  to  put  an  innocent  person  to 
death.  He  said,  "O  king  !  for  the  anger  which  thou 
feelest  against  me,  seek  not  thine  own  injury  !  "  The 
king  asked,  "How  so?"  He  replied,  "I  shall  suffer 
this  pang  but  for  a  moment,  and  the  guilt  of  it  will 
attach  to  thee  forever." 

Quatrain. 

Circling  on,  life's  years  have  fled,  as  flies  the  breeze  of 
morn ; 
Sadness  and  mirth,  and  foul  and  fair,  for  aye  have 
passed  away. 
Dream'st  thou,  tyrant  !  thou  hast  wreaked  on  me  thy 
rage  and  scorn  ? 
The  burthen  from  my  neck    has  passed,  on  thine 
must  ever  stay. 

The  king  laughed  and  said,  "  In  thy  life  thou  never 
said'st  a  truer  word  than  this."  He  then  commanded 
the  usual  allowance  for  descendants  of  the  Prophet  to 
be  got  ready  for  him. 

Story. 

Abdu'l-Kadir  Gilani !  laid  his  face  on  the  pebbles  in 
the  sanctuary  of  the  Kaba,  and  said,  "  O  Lord  !  par- 
don me ;  but  if  I  am  deserving  of  punishment,  raise 

1  This  saintly  personage  was  a  celebrated  Sufi  of  Baghdad,  under 
whom  Sa'di  embraced  the  doctrine  of  the  Mystics. 


270  Sa'di. 

me  up  at  the  resurrection  blind,  that  I  may  not  be 
ashamed  in  the  sight  of  the  righteous." 

Stanza. 

Humbly  in  dust  I  bow  each  day 
My  face,  with  wakening  memory, 

O  Thou  !  whom  I  forget  not,  say, 
Dost  thou  bethink  Thee  e'er  of  me  ? 

Story. 

A  thief  entered  the  house  of  a  recluse.  However 
much  he  searched,  he  found  nothing.  He  turned 
back  sadly  and  in  despair,  and  was  observed  by  the 
holy  man,  who  cast  the  blanket  on  which  he  slept  in 
the  way  of  the  thief,  that  he  might  not  be  disap- 
pointed. 

Stanza. 

The  men  of  God's  true  faith,  I've  heard, 
Grieve  not  the  hearts  e'en  of  their  foes. 

When  will  this  station  be  conferred 
On  thee  who  dost  thy  friends  oppose? 

The  friendship  of  the  pure-minded,  whether  in  pres- 
ence or  absence,  is  not  such  that  they  will  find  fault 
with  thee  behind  thy  back,  and  die  for  thee  in  thy 
presence. 

Couplet. 

Before  thee  like  the  lamb  they  gentle  are : 
Absent,  than  savage  wolves  more  ruthless  far. 


Gulistan ;  or,  Rose  Garden.  271 

Couplet. 

They  who  the  faults  of  others  bring  to  you, 
Be  sure  they'll  bear  to  others  your  faults  too. 

Story. 

Certain  travellers  had  agreed  to  journey  together, 
and  to  share  their  pains  and  pleasures.  I  wished  to 
join  them.  They  withheld  their  consent.  I  said, 
"  It  is  inconsistent  with  the  benevolent  habits  of  the 
eminent  to  avert  the  countenance  from  the  society  of 
the  lowly,  and  to  decline  to  be  of  service  to  them  ; 
and  I  feel  in  myself  such  power  of  exertion  and 
energy  that  in  th~  service  of  men  I  should  be  an 
active  friend,  not  a  weight  on  their  minds. 

Couplet. 

What  though  Pm  borne1  not  in  the  camel  throng, 
Yet  will  I  strive  to  bear  your  loads  along." 

One  of  them  said,  "  Let  not  thy  heart  be  grieved  at 
the  answer  thou  hast  received,  for  within  the  last  few 
days  a  thief  came  in  the  guise  of  a  dervish,  and 
linked  himself  in  the  chain  of  our  society." 

Couplet. 

What  know  men  of  the  wearer,  though  they  know  the 

dress  full  well  ? 
The  letter-writer  only  can  the  letter's  purport  tell. 

1  There  is  an  attempt  here  at  a  pun. 


272  Sa'di. 

Inasmuch  as  the  state  of  dervishes  is  one  of  security, 
they  had  no  suspicion  of  his  meddling  propensities, 
and  admitted  him  into  companionship. 

Distichs. 

Rags  are  the  external  sign  of  holiness ; 
Sufficient  —  for  men  judge  by  outward  dress. 
Strive  to  do  well,  and  what  thou  pleasest,  wear ; 
Thy  head  a  crown,  thine  arm  a  flag  may  bear. 
Virtue  lies  not  in  sackcloth  coarse  and  sad  ; 
Be  purely  pious,  and  in  satin  clad  : 
True  holiness  consists  in  quitting  vice, 
The  world  and  lust,  —  not  dress  ;  —  let  this  suffice. 
Let  valiant  men  their  breasts  with  iron  plate  : 
Weapons  of  war  ill  suit  the  effeminate. 

"  In  short,  one  day,  we  had  journeyed  till  dusk,  and 
slept  for  the  night  under  a  castle's  walls.  The  grace- 
less thief  took  up  the  water-pot  of  one  of  his  com- 
rades, saying  that  he  was  going  for  a  necessary  purpose, 
and  went,  in  truth,  to  plunder. 

Couplet. 

He'd  fain  with  tattered  garment  for  a  dervish  pass, 
And  makes  the  Kaba's *  pall  the  housings  of  an  ass. 


1  First  the  Khalifahs,  then  the  Sultans  of  Egypt,  and  lastly  those 
of  Constantinople,  have  been  in  the  habit  of  sending  annually  to 
Mecca  a  rich  covering  of  brocade  for  the  temple  there,  called  the 
Kaba. 


Gulistan ;  or,  Rose  Garden.  273 

As  soon  as  he  had  got  out  of  sight  of  the  dervishes 
he  scaled  a  bastion,  and  stole  a  casket.  Before  the 
day  dawned,  that  dark-hearted  one  had  got  to  a  con- 
siderable distance,  and  his  innocent  companions  were 
still  asleep.  In  the  morning  they  carried  them  all  to 
the  fortress  and  imprisoned  them.  From  that  day  we 
have  abjured  society,  and  kept  to  the  path  of  retire- 
ment, for,  in  solitude  there  is  safety." 

Stanza. 

When  but  one  member  of  a  tribe  has  done 
A  foolish  act,  all  bear  alike  disgrace, 

Seest  thou  how  in  the  mead  one  ox  alone 
Will  lead  astray  the  whole  herd  of  a  place  ? 

I  said,  "  I  thank  God  (may  He  be  honored  and 
glorified  !)  that  I  have  not  remained  excluded  from 
the  beneficial  influences  of  the  dervishes,  although  I 
have  been  deprived  of  their  society,  and  I  have  de- 
rived profit  from  this  story,  and  this  advice  will  be 
useful  to  such  as  I  am  through  the  whole  of  life." 

Distichs. 

Be  there  but  one  rough  person  in  their  train, 
For  his  misdeeds  the  wise  will  suffer  pain. 
Should  you  a  cistern  with  rose-water  fill, 
A  dog  dropped  in  it  would  defile  it  still. 

Story. 

A  religious  recluse  became  the  guest  of  a  king. 
When  they  sate  down  to  their  meals,  he  ate  less  than 


274  Sa'di. 

his  wont ;  and  when  they  rose  up  to  pray,  he  prayed 
longer  than  he  was  accustomed  to,  that  they  might 
have  a  greater  opinion  of  his  piety. 

Couplet 

O  Arab  !    much  I  fear  thou  at  Mecca's  shrine  wilt 

never  be, 
For  the  road  that  thou  art  going  is  the  road  to  Tartary, 

When  he  returned  to  his  own  abode  he  ordered  the 
cloth  to  be  laid  that  they  might  eat.  He  had  a  son 
possessed  of  a  ready  wit,  who  said,  "  O  my  father  ! 
didst  thou  eat  nothing  at  the  entertainment  of  the 
Sultan?  "  He  replied,  "  I  ate  nothing  in  their  sight  to 
serve  a  purpose."  The  son  rejoined,  "  Repeat  thy 
prayers  again,  and  make  up  for  their  omission,  since 
thou  hast  done  nothing  that  can  serve  any  purpose." 

Stanza. 

Thy  merits  in  thy  palm  thou  dost  display ; 

Thy  faults  beneath  thy  arm  from  sight  withhold. 
What  wilt  thou  purchase,  vain  one  !    in  that  day, 

The  day  of  anguish,  with  thy  feigned  gold  ? 1 

Story. 

I  remember  that,  in  the  time  of  my  childhood,  I  was 
devout,  and  in  the  habit  of  keeping  vigils,  and  eager 
to  practise  mortification  and  austerities.     One  night  I 

1  Literally,  "  Base  silver  or  coin." 


Gulistan ;  or,  Rose  Garden.  275 

sat  up  in  attendance  on  my  father,  and  did  not  close 
my  eyes  the  whole  night,  and  held  the  precious  Koran 
in  my  lap  while  the  people  around  me  slept.  I  said 
to  my  father,  "  Not  one  of  these  lifts  up  his  head  to 
perform  a  prayer.1  They  are  so  profoundly  asleep 
that  you  would  say  they  were  dead."  He  replied, 
"  Life  of  thy  father  !  it  were  better  if  thou,  too,  wert 
asleep ;  rather  than  thou  shouldst  be  backbiting  peo- 
ple." 

Stanza. 

Naught  but  themselves  can  vain  pretenders  mark, 
For  conceit's  curtain  intercepts  their  view. 

Did  God  illume  that  which  in  them  is  dark, 

Naught  than  themselves  would  wear  a  darker  hue. 

Story. 

In  a  certain  assembly  they  were  extolling  a  person 
of  eminence,  and  going  to  an  extreme  in  praising  his 
excellent  qualities.  He  raised  his  head,  and  said,  "  I 
am  that  which  I  know  myself  to  be." 

Couplet. 

Thou  who  wouldst  sum  my  virtues  up,  enough  thou' 11 

find 
In  outivard  semblance  ;  to  my  secret  failings  blind. 

1  Literally,  "  A  double  prayer,"  "binas  precationes,"  as  M.  Seme- 
let  remarks,  like  "  deux  Pater  et  deux  Ave." 


276  Sa'di. 

Stanza. 

My  person,  in  men's  eyes,  is  fair  to  view ; 

But,  for  my  inward  faults,  shame  bows  my  head. 
The  peacock,  lauded  for  his  brilliant  hue, 

Is  by  his  ugly  feet  discomfited. 

Story. 

They  asked  Lukman,  "  Of  whom  didst  thou  learn 
manners?"  He  replied,  "From  the  unmannerly. 
Whatever  I  saw  them  do  which  I  disapproved  of,  that 
I  abstained  from  doing." 

Stanza. 

Not  e'en  in  jest  a  playful  word  is  said, 

But  to  the  wise,  'twill  prove  a  fruitful  theme. 

To  fools,  a  hundred  chapters  may  be  read 

Of  grave  import;  to  them  they'll  jesting  seem. 

Story. 

They  asked  one  of  the  Shaikhs  of  Damascus,  "What 
is  the  true  state  of  Sufiism  ?  "  l  He  replied, "  Formerly 
they  were  a  sect  outwardly  disturbed,  but  inwardly  col- 
lected ;  and  at  this  day  they  are  a  tribe  outwardly 
collected  and  inwardly  disturbed." 

1  The  Sufis  are  a  sect  of  Mohammedan  Mystics,  whose  opinions, 
with  regard  to  the  soul,  the  Deity,  and  creation,  very  much  resemble 
the  esoteric  doctrines  of  the  Brahmans.  They  look  upon  the  soul 
as  an  emanation  from  the  Deity,  to  be  reabsorbed  into  its  source, 
and  regard  that  absorption  as  attainable  by  contemplation. 


Gulistan ;  or,  Rose  Garden.  277 

Stanza. 

While  ever  roams  from  place  to  place  thy  heart, 
No  peacefulness  in  solitude  thou'lt  see ; 

Hast  thou  estates,  wealth,  rank,  the  trader's  mart  ? 
Be  thy  heart  God's  —  this  solitude  may  be. 

Story. 

A  king  had  reached  the  close  of  his  life,  and  had  no 
heir  to  succeed  him.  He  made  a  will,  that  they  should 
place  the  royal  crown  on  the  head  of  the  first  person 
who  might  enter  the  gates  of  the  city  in  the  morning, 
and  should  confide  the  government  to  him.  It 
happened  that  the  first  person  who  entered  the  city 
gate  was  a  beggar,  who  throughout  his  whole  life  had 
collected  scrap  after  scrap,  and  sewn  rag  upon  rag. 
The  Pillars  of  the  State,  and  ministers  of  the  late  king, 
executed  his  will,  and  bestowed  on  him  the  country 
and  the  treasure.  The  dervish  carried  on  the  govern- 
ment for  a  time,  when  some  of  the  great  nobles  turned 
their  necks  from  obeying  him,  and  the  princes  of  the 
surrounding  countries  rose  up  on  every  side  to  oppose 
him,  and  arrayed  their  armies  against  him.  In  short, 
his  troops  and  his  subjects  were  thrown  into  confusion, 
and  a  portion  of  his  territory  departed  from  his  posses- 
sion. The  dervish  was  in  a  state  of  dejection  at  this 
circumstance,  when  one  of  his  old  friends,  who  was 
intimate  with  him  in  the  time  of  his  poverty,  returned 
from  a  journey,  and,  finding  him  in  this  exalted  posi- 


278  Sa'di. 

tion,  said,  "  Thanks  be  to  God  (may  He  be  honored 
and  glorified  !)  that  thy  lofty  destiny  has  aided  thee, 
and  thy  auspicious  fortune  has  led  thee  on,  so  that  thy 
rose  has  come  forth  from  the  thorn,  and  the  thorn  from 
thy  foot,  and  thou  hast  arrived  at  this  rank,  '  surely 
with  calamity  comes  rejoicing? 1 

Couplet. 

The  bud  now  blossoms ;  withered  now  is  found  : 
The  tree  now  naked ;  now  with  leaves  is  crowned." 

He  replied,  "  O  brother  !  condole  with  me ;  for  there 
is  no  room  for  felicitation.  When  thou  sawest  me,  I 
was  distressed  for  bread,  and  now  I  have  the  troubles 
of  a  world  upon  me." 

Distichs. 

Have  we  no  wordly  gear  —  'tis  grief  and  pain  : 
Have  we  it  —  then  its  charms  our  feet  enchain. 
Can  we  than  this  a  plague  more  troublous  find, 
Which  absent,  present,  still  afflicts  the  mind? 

Stanza. 

Wouldst  thou  be  rich,  seek  but  content  to  gain ; 

For  this  a  treasure  is  that  ne'er  will  harm. 
If  in  thy  lap  some  Dives  riches  rain, 

Let  not  thy  heart  with  gratitude  grow  warm ; 
For,  by  the  wisest,  I  have  oft  been  told,  — 
The  poor  man's  patience  better  is  than  gold. 

1 "  After  pain  comes  pleasure ;  "    "  Apres  la  peine  le  plaisir." 


Gulistan ;  or,  Rose  Garden.  279 

Couplet. 

A  locust's  leg,  the  poor  ant's  gift,  is  more 

Than  the  wild  ass  dressed  whole  from  Bahram's 1  store. 


Story. 

Having  become  weary  of  the  society  of  my  friends 
at  Damascus,  I  set  out  for  the  wilderness  of  Jerusalem, 
and  associated  with  the  brutes,  until  I  was  made  pris- 
oner by  the  Franks,  who  set  me  to  work  along  with 
Jews  at  digging  in  the  fosse  of  Tripolis,  till  one  of  the 
principal  men  of  Aleppo,  between  whom  and  myself  a 
former  intimacy  had  subsisted,  passed  that  way  and 
recognized  me,  and  said,  "  What  state  is  this  ?  and  how 
are  you  living?  "     I  replied, 

Stanza. 

"  From  men  to  mountain  and  to  wild  I  fled 
Myself  to  heavenly  converse  to  betake ; 

Conjecture  now  my  state,  that  in  a  shed 
Of  savages  I  must  my  dwelling  make." 

Couplet. 

Better  to  live  in  chains  with  those  we  love, 
Than  with  the  strange  mid  flow'rets  gay  to  move. 

1  Bahram,  the  sixth  of  that  name,  was  a  king  of  Persia,  called 
Gor,  from  his  fondness  for  hunting  the  wild  ass.  This  couplet  is  a 
sort  of  Oriental  version  of  the  widow's  mite. 


280  Sa'di. 

He  took  compassion  on  my  state,  and  with  ten  dinars 
redeemed  me  from  the  bondage  of  the  Franks,  and 
took  me  along  with  him  to  Aleppo.  He  had  a  daugh- 
ter, whom  he  united  to  me  in  the  marriage-knot,  with 
a  portion  of  a  hundred  dinars.  As  time  went  on,  the 
girl  turned  out  of  a  bad  temper,  quarrelsome  and 
unruly.  She  began  to  give  a  loose  to  her  tongue,  and 
to  disturb  my  happiness,  as  they  have  said, 

Distichs. 

"  In  a  good  man's  house  an  evil  wife 

Is  his  hell  above  in  this  present  life.  to 

From  a  vixen  wife  protect  us  well, 

Save  us,  O  God !  from  the  pains  of  hell." 

At  length  she  gave  vent  to  reproaches,  and  said,  "  Art 
thou  not  he  whom  my  father  purchased  from  the 
Franks'  prison  for  ten  dinars?"  I  replied,  "Yes  !  he 
redeemed  me  with  ten  dinars,  and  sold  me  into  thy 
hands  for  a  hundred." 

Distichs. 

I've  heard  that  once  a  man  of  high  degree 
From  a  wolf's  teeth  and  claws  a  lamb  set  free. 
That  night  its  throat  he  severed  with  a  knife, 
When  thus  complained  the  lamb's  departing  life, 
"  Thou  from  the  wolf  didst  save  me  then,  but  now, 
Too  plainly  I  perceive  the  wolf  art  thou." 


Gulistan ;  or,  Rose  Garden.  281 

Story. 

One  of  the  Syrian  recluses  had  for  years  worshipped 
in  the  desert,  and  sustained  life  by  feeding  on  the 
leaves  of  trees.  The  king  of  that  region  made  a  pil- 
grimage to  visit  him,  and  said,  "  If  thou  thinkest  fit,  I 
will  prepare  a  place  for  thee  in  the  city  that  thou 
mayest  have  greater  conveniences  for  devotion  than 
here,  and  that  others  may  be  benefited  by  the  blessing 
of  thy  prayers,  and  may  imitate  thy  virtuous  acts." 
The  devotee  did  not  assent  to  these  words.  The 
nobles  said,  "  To  oblige  the  king,  the  proper  course  is 
for  thee  to  come  into  the  city  for  a  few  days  and  learn 
the  nature  of  the  place  ;  after  which,  if  the  serenity  of 
thy  precious  time  suffers  disturbance  from  the  society  of 
others,  thou  wilt  be  still  free  to  choose."  They  relate 
that  the  devotee  entered  the  city,  and  that  they  pre- 
pared for  him  the  garden  of  the  king's  own  palace,  a 
place  delightsome  to  the  mind,  and  suited  to  tranquillize 
the  spirit. 

Distichs. 

Like  beauty's  cheek,  bright  shone  its  roses  red ; 
Its  hyacinths  —  like  fair  ones'  ringlets  spread  — 
Seemed  babes,  which  from   their  mother  milk  ne'er 

drew, 
In  winter's  cold  so  shrinkingly  they  grew. 

Couplet 

And  the  branches  —  on  them  grew  pomegranate-flowers 
Like  fire,  suspended  there,  mid  verdant  bowers. 


282  Sa'di. 

The  king  forthwith  despatched  a  beautiful  damsel  to 
him. 

Verse. 

A  young  moon  that  e'en  saints  might  lead  astray, 
Angel  in  form,  a  peacock  in  display, 
When  once  beheld,  not  hermits  could  retain 
Their  holy  state,  nor  undisturbed  remain. 

In  like  manner,  after  her,  the  king  sent  a  slave,  a 
youth  of  rare  beauty  and  of  graceful  proportions. 

Stanza. 

Round  him,  who  seems  cupbearer,  people  sink  ; 
Of  thirst  they  die,  he  gives  them  not  to  drink. 

The  eyes  that  see  him,  still  unsated  crave, 
As  dropsy  thirsts  amid  the  Euphrates'  wave. 

The  holy  man  began  to  feed  on  dainties  and  wear 
soft  raiment,  and  to  find  gratification  and  enjoyment 
in  fruits  and  perfumes,  as  well  as  to  survey  the  beauty 
of  the  youth  and  of  the  damsel ;  and  the  wise  have 
said,  "  The  ringlets  of  the  beautiful  are  the  fetters  of 
reason  and  a  snare  to  the  bird  of  intelligence." 

Couplet. 

In  thy  behoof,  my  heart,  my  faith,  my  intellect,  I  vow  ; 
In  truth,  a  subtle  bird  am  I ;  the  snare  this  day  art 
thou. 


Gulistan ;  or,  Rose  Garden.  283 

In  short,  the  bliss  of  1  his  tranquil  state  began  to 
decline  ;  as  they  have  said, 

Stanza. 

"  All  that  exist  —  disciples,  doctors,  saints, 

The  pure  and  eloquent  alike,  all  fail 
When  once  this  world's  base  gear  their  minds  attaints, 

As  flies  their  legs  in  honey  vainly  trail." 

At  length  the  king  felt  a  desire  to  visit  him.  He 
found  the  recluse  altered  in  appearance  from  what  he 
was  before,  with  a  florid  complexion,  and  waxen  fat, 
pillowed  on  a  cushion  of  brocade,  and  the  fairy-faced 
slave  standing  at  his  head,  with  a  fan  of  peacock's 
feathers.  The  monarch  was  pleased  at  his  felicitous 
state,  and  the  conversation  turned  on  a  variety  of  sub- 
jects, till,  at  the  close  of  it,  the  king  said,  "  Of  all  the 
people  in  the  world,  I  value  these  two  sorts  most  —  the 
learned  and  the  devout."  A  philosophical  and  experi- 
enced vazir  was  present.  He  said,  "  O  king  !  friend- 
ship requires  that  thou  shouldst  do  good  to  both  these 
two  orders  of  men  —  to  the  wise  give  gold,  that  they 
may  study  the  more ;  and  to  the  devout  give  nothing, 
that  they  may  remain  devout." 

Couplet. 

To  the  devout,  nor  pence  nor  gold  divide ; 
If  one  receive  it,  seek  another  guide. 


284  Sa'di. 

Stanza. 

Kind  manners,  and  a  heart  on  God  bestowed 

Make  up  the  saint,  without  alms  begged  or  bread 

That  piety  bequeathes.     What  though  no  load 
Of  turquoise-rings  on  Beauty's  fingers  shed 

Their  ray,  nor  from  her  ear  the  shimmering  gem 
Depends ;  'tis  Beauty  still,  and  needs  not  them. 

Stanza. 

O  gentle  dervish  !  blest  with  mind  serene, 
Thou  hast  no  need  of  alms  or  hermit's  fare. 

Lady  of  beauteous  face  and  graceful  mien  ! 

Thou  well  the  turquoise-ring  and  gauds  canst  spare. 

Couplet. 

Seek  I  for  goods  which  not  to  me  belong ; 
Then  if  men  call  me  worldly  they're  not  wrong. 

Story. 

In  conformity  with  the  preceding  story,  an  affair  of 
importance  occurred  to  the  king.  He  said,  "  If  the 
termination  of  this  matter  be  in  accordance  with  my 
wishes,  I  will  distribute  so  many  dirams  to  holy  men." 
When  his  desire  was  accomplished,  it  became  incum- 
bent on  him  to  fulfil  his  vow  according  to  the  condi- 
tions. He  gave  a  bag  of  dirams  to  one  of  his  favorite 
servants,  and  told  him  to  distribute  them  among 
devout   personages.     They  say  that  the  servant  was 


Gulistan ;  or,  Rose  Garden.  285 

shrewd  and  intelligent.  He  went  about  the  whole 
day,  and  returned  at  night,  and,  kissing  the  dirams, ' 
laid  them  before  the  king,  saying,  "  However  much  I 
searched  for  the  holy  men,  I  could  not  find  them." 
The  king  replied,  "  What  tale  is  this  ?  I  know  that 
in  this  city  there  are  four  hundred  saints."  He  an- 
swered, "  O  Lord  of  the  earth  !  the  devout  accept 
them  not,  and  he  who  accepts  them  is  not  devout." 
The  king  laughed  and  said  to  his  courtiers,  "  Strong 
as  my  good  intentions  are  toward  this  body  of  godly 
men,  and  much  as  I  wish  to  express  my  favor  toward 
them,  I  am  thwarted  by  a  proportionate  enmity  and 
rejection  of  them  on  the  part  of  this  saucy  fellow,  and 
he  has  reason  on  his  side." 

Couplet. 

When  holy  men  accept  of  coin  from  thee, 
Leave  them,  and  seek  some  better  devotee. 

Story. 

They  asked  a  profoundly  learned  man  his  opinion 
as  to  pious  bequests.  He  said,  "  If  the  allowance  is 
received  in  order  to  tranquillize  the  mind,  and  obtain 
more  leisure  for  devotion,  it  is  lawful ;  but  when  peo- 
ple congregate  for  the  sake  of  the  endowment,  it  is 
unlawful." 

Couplet. 
For  sacred  leisure  saints  receive  their  bread, 
Not  to  gain  food  that  ease  is  furnished. 


286  Sa'di. 


Story. 


A  disciple  said  to  his  spiritual  guide,  "  What  shall  I 
do,  for  I  am  harassed  by  people  through  the  frequency 
of  their  visits  to  me,  and  my  precious  moments  are 
disturbed  by  their  coming  and  going."  He  replied, 
"  Lend  to  all  who  are  poor,  and  demand  a  loan  of  all 
who  are  rich,  and  they  will  not  come  about  thee  again." 

Couplet. 

If  Islam's  van  a  beggar  should  precede, 
To  China  infidels  would  fly  his  greed. 


Story. 

A  band  of  dissolute  fellows  came  to  find  fault  with  a 
dervish,  and  used  unwarrantable  language,  and  wounded 
his  feelings.  He  carried  his  complaint  before  the  chief 
of  his  order,  and  said,  "  I  have  undergone  such  and 
such."  His  chief  replied,  "  O  son  !  the  patched  robe 
of  dervishes  is  the  garment  of  resignation.  Every  one 
who  in  this  garb  endures  not  disappointment  patiently 
is  a  pretender,  and  it  is  unlawful  for  him  to  wear  the 
robe  of  the  dervish. 

Couplet. 

A  stone  makes  not  great  rivers  turbid  grow : 
When  saints  are  vexed  their  shallowness  they  show. 


Gulistan ;  or.  Rose  Garden.  287 

Stanza. 

Hast  thou  been  injured?  suffer  it  and  clear 
Thyself  from  guilt  in  pardoning  other's  sin. 

O  brother  !  since  the  end  of  all  things  here 
Is  into  dust  to  moulder,  be  thou  in 
Like  humble  mould,  ere  yet  the  change  begin.'V 

Story. 

(in  verse.) 

List  to  my  tale  !     In  Baghdad  once,  dispute 
Between  a  flag  and  curtain  rose.     Its  suit 
The  banner,  dusty  and  with  toil  oppressed, 
Urged  ;  and  the  curtain,  angry,  thus  addressed  : 
"  Myself  and  thou  were  comrades  at  one  school ; 
Both  now  are  slaves  'neath  the  same  monarch's  rule. 
I  in  his  service  ne'er  have  rested,  —  still, 
Whate'er  the  time,  I  journey  at  his  will ; 
My  foot  is  ever  foremost  in  emprise ; 
Then  why  hast  thou  more  honor  in  men's  eyes  ? 
With  moon-faced  slaves  thy  moments  pass  away ; 
With  jasmine-scented  girls  thou  mak'st  thy  stay. 
I  lie  neglected  still  in  servile  hands, 
Tossed  by  the  winds  my  head,  my  feet  in  bands." 
"The  threshold  is  my  couch,"  the  curtain  said, 
"  And  ne'er,  like  thee,  to  heaven  raise  I  my  head  : 
He  who  exalts  his  neck  with  vain  conceit, 
Hurls  himself  headlong  from  his  boasted  seat." 


288  Sa'di. 


Story. 


A  pious  man  saw  an  athlete  who  was  exasperated, 
and  infuriated,  foaming  at  the  mouth.  He  said, 
"What  is  the  matter  with  this  man?"  Some  one 
answered,  "  Such  a  one  has  abused  him."  "  What !  " 
said  the  holy  man,  "this  contemptible  feliovv  can  lift 
a  stone  of  a  thousand  mans'1  weight,  yet  has  not  the 
power  to  support  a  word. 

Stanza. 

Boast  not  thy  strength  or  manhood  while  thy  heart 
Is  swayed  by  impulse  base  ;  —  if  man  thou  art, 
Or  woman,  matters  naught ;  —  but  rather  aim 
All  mouths  to  sweeten,  —  thus  deserve  the  name 
Of  man  ;  for  manliness  doth  not  consist 
In  stopping  others'  voices  with  thy  fist. 

Stanza. 

Though  one  could  brain  an  elephant,  yet  he 
Is  not  a  man  without  humanity. 
In  earth  the  source  of  Adam's  sons  began  ; 
Art  thou  not  humble?  then  thou  art  not  man." 

Story. 

A  king  was  regarding  a  company  of  dervishes  con- 
temptuously. One  of  them,  acute  enough  to  divine  his 
feelings,  said,  "  O  king  !  we,  in  this  world,  are  inferior 

1  A  ?nan  or  mann  of  Tabriz  is  ten  pounds. 


Gulistan ;  or,  Rose  Garden.  289 

to  thee  in  military  pomp,  but  enjoy  more  pleasure,  and 
are  equal  with  thee  in  death,  and  superior  to  thee  in 
the  day  of  resurrection. 

Distichs. 

The  conqueror  may  in  every  wish  succeed ; 
Of  bread  the  dervish  daily  stands  in  need  ; 
But  in  that  hour  when  both  return  to  clay, 
Naught  but  their  winding-sheet  they  take  away. 
When  man  makes  up  his  load  this  realm  to  leave, 
The  beggar  finds  less  cause  than  kings  to  grieve. 

The  outward  mark  of  a  dervish  is  a  patched  garment 
and  shaven  head;  but  his  essential  qualities  are  a  liv- 
ing heart  and  mortified  passions. 

Stanza. 

Not  at  strife's  door  sits  he ;  when  thwarted,  ne'er 
Starts  up  to  contest ;  all  unmoved  his  soul. 

He  is  no  saint  who  from  the  path  would  stir, 

Though  a  huge  stone  should  from  a  mountain  roll. 

The  dervish's  course  of  life  is  spent  in  commemorating, 
and  thanking,  and  serving,  and  obeying  God  ;  and  in 
beneficence  and  contentment ;  and  in  the  acknowledg- 
ment of  one  God  and  in  reliance  on  Him  ;  and  in 
resignation  and  patience.  Every  one  who  is  endued 
with  these  qualities  is,  in  fact,  a  dervish,  though 
dressed  in  a  tunic.  But  a  babbler,  who  neglects 
prayer,  and  is  given  to  sensuality,  and  the  gratification 


290  Sa'di. 

of  his  appetite ;  who  spends  his  days  till  night-fall  in 
the  pursuit  of  licentiousness,  and  passes  his  night  till 
day  returns  in  careless  slumber ;  eats  whatever  is  set 
before  him,  and  says  whatever  comes  uppermost ;  is  a 
profligate,  though  he  wear  the  habit  of  a  dervish. 

Stanza. 

O  thou  !    whose  outer  robe  is  falsehood,  pride, 
While  inwardly  thou  art  to  virtue  dead ; 

Thy  curtain l  of  seven  colors  put  aside, 

While  th'  inner  house  with  mats  is  poorly  spread." 


Story. 

(in  verse.) 

I  saw  some  handfuls  of  the  rose  in  bloom, 

With  bands  of  grass  suspended  from  a  dome. 

I  said,  "  What  means  this  worthless  grass,  that  it 

Should  in  the  roses'  fairy  circle  sit?" 

Then  wept  the  grass  and  said,  "  Be  still !   and  know 

The  kind  their  old  associates  ne'er  forego. 

Mine  is  no  beauty,  hue,  or  fragrance,  true  ! 

But  in  the  garden  of  the  Lord  I  grew." 

His  ancient  servant  I, 
Reared  by  His  bounty  from  the  dust; 

Whate'er  my  quality, 

1  It  is  customary  in  Persia  to  have  a  curtain  at  the  portal  of  the 
house,  the  richness  of  which  depends  on  the  circumstances  of  the 
owner. 


Gulistan ;  or,  Rose  Garden.  291 

I'll  in  His  favoring  mercy  trust. 

No  stock  of  worth  is  mine, 
Nor  fund  of  worship,  yet  He  will 

A  means  of  help  divine  ; 
When  aid  is  past,  He'll  save  me  still. 

Those  who  have  power  to  free, 
Let  their  old  slaves  in  freedom  live, 

Thou  Glorious  Majesty  ! 
Me,  too,  Thy  ancient  slave,  forgive. 
Sa'di !    move  thou  to  resignation's  shrine, 

0  man  of  God  !    the  path  of  God  be  thine. 
Hapless  is  he  who  from  this  haven  turns, 

All  doors  shall  spurn  him  who  this  portal  spurns. 

Story. 

1  never  complained  of  the  vicissitudes  of  fortune, 
nor  suffered  my  face  to  be  overcast  at  the  revolution 
of  the  heavens,  except  once,  when  my  feet  were  bare, 
and  I  had  not  the  means  of  obtaining  shoes.  I  came 
to  the  chief  mosque  of  Kufah  in  a  state  of  much  dejec- 
tion, and  saw  there  a  man  who  had  no  feet.  I  returned 
thanks  to  God  and  acknowledged  his  mercies,  and 
endured  my  want  of  shoes  with  patience,  and  exclaimed, 

Stanza. 

"  Roast  fowl  to  him  that's  sated  will  seem  less 
Upon  the  board  than  leaves  of  garden  cress. 
While,  in  the  sight  of  helpless  poverty, 
Boiled  turnip  will  a  roasted  pullet  be." 


2Q2  Sa'di. 

Story. 

A  merchant  met  with  the  loss  of  a  thousand  dinars, 
and  said  to  his  son,  "  Thou  must  not  tell  any  one  of  this 
matter."  The  son  replied,  "  O  father  !  it  is  thy  com- 
mand ;  I  will  not  tell ;  acquaint  me,  however,  with  the 
advantage  to  be  derived  from  keeping  the  affair  secret." 
The  father  answered,  "  In  order  that  we  may  not  have 
two  misfortunes  to  encounter  —  first,  the  loss  of  our 
money ;  and  secondly,  the  malignant  rejoicings  of  our 
neighbors." 

Couplet. 

Do  not  to  foes  thy  sufferings  impart, 

Lest,  while  they  seem  to  grieve,  they  joy  at  heart.1 

Story. 

An  intelligent  young  man,  who  possessed  an  ample 
stock  of  admirable  accomplishments  and  a  rare  intel- 
lect, notwithstanding,  uttered  not  a  word  whenever  he 
was  seated  in  the  company  of  the  wise.  At  length,  his 
father  said,  "  O  son  !  why  dost  not  thou  also  say  some- 
what of  that  thou  knowest?"  He  replied,  "I  fear 
lest  they  should  ask  me  something  of  which  I  am  igno- 
rant, and  I  should  bring  on  myself  disgrace." 

Stanza. 

One  day  a  Sufi  (hast  thou  heard  it  told  ?) 

By  chance  was  hammering  nails  into  his  shoe  : 

1  Literally,  "  While  they  repeat  the  deprecatory  formula,  There 
is  no  power  or  strength  but  in  God." 


Gulistan ;  or,  Rose  Garden,  293 

Then  of  his  sleeve  an  officer  caught  hold, 

And  said,  "  Come  thou  !    and  shoe  my  charger  too  !  " 

Couplet. 

Art  silent?  none  can  meddle  with  thee.     When 
Thou  once  hast  spoken,  thou  must  prove  it  then. 

Story. 

A  man  with  a  harsh  voice  was  reading  the  Koran  in 
a  loud  tone.  A  sage  passed  by  and  asked,  "What  is 
thy  monthly  stipend?"  He  replied,  "Nothing." 
"  Wherefore,  then,"  asked  the  sage,  "  dost  thou  give 
thyself  this  trouble?"  He  replied,  "I  read  for  the 
sake  of  God."  "Then,"  said  the  sage,  "for  God's 
sake  !   read  not." 

Couplet 

If  in  this  fashion  the  Koran  you  read, 
You'll  mar  the  loveliness  of  Islam's  creed. 


Story. 

They  asked  Hasan  Maimandi,  "  How  is  it  that, 
although  Sultan  Mahmud  has  so  many  handsome 
slaves,  every  one  of  whom  is  the  wonder  of  the  world, 
and  the  marvel  of  the  age,  he  has  not  such  a  regard 
or  affection  for  any  one  as  for  Ayaz,  who  is  not 
remarkable  for  beauty?"  He  replied,  "Whatever 
pleases  the  heart  appears  fair  to  the  eye." 


294  Sa'di. 

Distichs. 

The  man  for  whom  the  Sultan  shows  esteem, 
Though  bad  in  every  act,  will  virtuous  seem. 
But  whom  the  monarch  pleases  to  reject, 
None  of  his  retinue  will  e'er  affect. 

Stanza. 

When  with  antipathy  we  eye  a  man, 

We  see  in  Joseph's  beauty,  want  of  grace  : 

And,  prepossessed,  should  we  a  demon  scan, 
He'd  seem  a  cherub  with  an  angel's  face. 

Story. 

They  shut  up  a  parrot  in  a  cage  with  a  crow.  The 
parrot  was  distressed  at  the  ugly  appearance  of  the 
other,  and  said,  "  What  hateful  form  is  this,  and  de- 
tested shape,  and  accursed  face  and  unpolished  man- 
ners ?  O  crow  of  the  desert !  would  that  between  vie 
and  thee  were  the  space  'twixt  east  and  west  /  " 

Stanza. 

Should  one  at  dawn  arising  thy  face  see, 

'Tvvould    change  to  twilight  gloom  that  morning's 
mirth. 
Such  wretch  as  thou  art  should  thy  comrade  be, 

But  where  could  such  a  one  be  found  on  earth  ! 

But  still  more  strangely  the  crow,  too,  was  harassed  to 
death  by  the  society  of  the    parrot,  and  was  utterly 


Gulistan ;  or,  Rose  Garden.  295 

chagrined  by  it.  Reciting  the  deprecatory  formula, 
"There  is  no  power  nor  strength  but  in  God,"1  it  com- 
plained of  its  fate,  and,  rubbing  one  upon  the  other  the 
hands  of  vexation,  it  said,  "  What  evil  fate  is  this,  and 
unlucky  destiny,  and  fickleness  of  fortune  !  It  would 
have  been  commensurate  with  my  deserts  to  have 
walked  proudly  along  with  another  crow  on  the  wall  of 
a  garden. 

Coicplet. 

'Twill  for  a  prison  to  the  good  suffice, 

To  herd  them  with  the  worthless  sons  of  vice. 

What  crime  have  I  committed  in  punishment  for  which 
my  fate  has  involved  me  in  such  a  calamity,  and  im- 
prisoned me  with  a  conceited  fool  like  this,  at  once 
worthless  and  fatuous  ?  " 

Stanza. 

All  would  that  wall  with  loathing  fly 
Which  bore  impressed  thy  effigy : 
And  if  thy  lot  in  Eden  fell, 
All  others  would  make  choice  of  Hell. 

I  have  brought  this  example  to  show  that,  how 
strong  soever  the  disgust  a  wise  man  may  feel  for  a 
fool,  a  fool  regards  with  a  hundred  times  more  aver- 
sion a  wise  man. 

!This  means,  "There  is  no  striving  against  fate." 


296  Sa'di. 

Couplets. 

A  pious  man,  mid  dance  and  song,  was  seated   with 

the  gay ; 
One  of  Balkh's  beauties  saw  him  there,  and  marked  the 

mirth  decay : 
"Do  we,  then,  weary  thee?"  he  said,  "at  least,  un- 

cloud  thy  brow ; 
For  we,  too,  feel  thy  presence  here  is  bitterness  enow. 

Quatrain. 

This  social  band  like  roses  is  and  lilies  joined  in  one, 
And  mid  them  thou,  a  withered  stick,  upspringest  all 

alone ; 
Like  winter's  cruel  cold  art  thou,  or  like  an  adverse 

blast,  — 
Thou   sittest   there  like    fallen   snow,  ice-bound  and 

frozen  fast." 

Story. 

A  man  had  a  beautiful  wife,  who  died,  and  his  wife's 
mother,  a  decrepit  old  woman,  on  account  of  the  mar- 
riage-settlement,1 took  up  her  abode,  and  fixed  herself 
in  his  house.  The  man  was  vexed  to  death  by  her 
propinquity,  yet  he  did  not  see  how  to  get  rid  of  her 
by  reason  of  the  settlement.  Some  of  his  friends  came 
to  inquire  after  him,  and  one  of  them  said,  "  How  dost 

1  As  he  could  not  pay  what  he  had  covenanted  to  pay,  when  he 
married,  his  wife's  relations  indemnified  themselves  by  saddling  him 
with  the  old  lady,  his  wife's  mother. 


Gulistan ;  or,  Rose  Garden.  297 

thou  bear  the  loss  of  thy  beloved  one  ?  "  He  replied, 
"The  not  seeing  my  wife  is  not  so  intolerable  to  me 
as  the  seeing  her  mother." 

Dis  ticks. 

The  tree  has  lost  its  roses,  but  retains 

Its  thorn.     The  treasure's  gone,  the  snake  l  remains. 

Tis  better  on  the  lance-point  fixed  to  see 

One's  eye,  than  to  behold  an  enemy. 

'Tis  well  a  thousand  friendships  to  erase 

Could  we  thereby  avoid  our  foeman's  face. 

Story. 

I  remember  that  in  my  youth  I  was  passing  along  a 
street  when  I  beheld  a  moon-faced  beauty.  The  sea- 
son was  that  of  the  month  of  July,  when  the  fierce  heat 
dried  up  the  moisture  of  the  mouth,  and  the  scorching 
wind  consumed  the  marrow  of  the  bones.  Through 
the  weakness  of  human  nature  I  was  unable  to  support 
the  power  of  the  sun,  and  involuntarily  took  shelter 
under  the  shade  of  a  wall,  waiting  to  see  if  any  one 
would  relieve  me  from  the  pain  I  suffered,  owing  to 
the  ardor  of  the  sun's  rays,  and  cool  my  flame  with 
water.  All  of  a  sudden,  from  the  dark  portico  of  a 
house,  I  beheld  a  bright  form  appear,  of  such  beauty 
that  the  tongue  of  eloquence  would  fail  in  narrating 

1Itisa  popular  Oriental  notion  that  treasures  are  guarded  by 
serpents. 


298  Sa'di. 

her  charms.  She  came  forth  as  morn  succeeding  a 
dark  night,  or  as  the  waters  of  life  issuing  from  the 
gloom.  She  held  in  her  hand  a  cup  of  snow-water,  in 
which  she  had  mixed  sugar  and  the  juice  of  the  grape. 
I  know  not  whether  she  had  perfumed  it  with  her  own 
roses,  or  distilled  into  it  some  drops  from  the  bloom  of 
her  countenance.  In  short,  I  took  the  cup  from  her 
fair  hand,  and  drained  its  contents,  and  received  new 
life.  "  The  thirst  of  my  heart  cannot  be  slaked  with  a 
drop  of  water,  nor  if  I  should  drink  rivers  would  it  be 
lessened" 

Stanza. 

Most  blest  that  happy  one  whose  gaze  intense 
Rests  on  such  face  at  each  successive  morn  ; 

The  drunk  with  wine  at  midnight  may  his  sense 
Regain  ;  but  not  till  the  last  day  shall  dawn 
Will  love's  intoxication  reach  its  bourne. 


Story. 

They  told  to  one  of  the  Arabian  kings  the  story  of 
Laili  and  Majnun,  and  of  the  insanity  which  happened 
to  him,  so  that,  although  possessed  of  high  qualities 
and  perfect  eloquence,  he  betook  himself  to  the  desert 
and  abandoned  the  reins  of  choice.  After  command- 
ing them  to  bring  him  into  his  presence,  the  king 
began  to  rebuke  him,  saying,  "  What  defect  hast  thou 
seen  in  the  nobleness  of  man's  nature  that  thou  hast 


Gulistan ;  or,  Rose  Garden.  299 

taken  up  the  habits  of  an  animal,  and  bidden  adieu  to 
the  happiness  of  human  society?"  Majnun  wept  and 
said, 

Verse. 

"  Oft  have  my  friends  reproached  me  for  my  love : 
The  day  will  come  they'll  see  her  and  approve. 

Stanza. 

Would  that  those  who  seek  to  blame  me 

Could  thy  face,  O  fairest  !  see ; 
Theirs  would  then  the  loss  and  shame  be : 

While  amazed,  intent  on  thee, 
They  would  wound  their  hands  while  they 
Careless  with  the  orange x  play  : 

That  the  truth  of  the  reality  might  testify  to  the  appear- 
ance I  claim  for  her  ! "  The  king  was  inspired  with  a 
desire  to  behold  her  beauty,  in  order  to  know  what 
sort  of  person  it  was  who  was  the  cause  of  such  mis- 
chief. He  commanded,  and  they  sought  for  her,  and, 
searching  through  the  Arab  families,  found  her,  and 
brought  her  before  the  king,  in  the  court  of  the  royal 
pavilion.  The  king  surveyed  her  countenance,  and 
beheld  a  person  of  a  dark  complexion  and  weak  form. 
She  appeared  to  him  so  contemptible  that  he  thought 
the  meanest  of  the  servants  of  his  harem  superior  to 
her  in  beauty  and  grace.     Majnun  acutely  discerned 

1  See  poem,  Yusuf  and  Zulaikha,  page  504. 


300  Sa'du 

his  thoughts  and,  said  "  0  king  !  it  is  requisite  to  survey 
the  beauty  of  Laili  from  the  window  of  the  eye  of 
Majnun,  in  order  that  the  mystery  of  the  spectacle  may 
be  revealed  to  you." 

Dis ticks. 

Unmoved  with  pity  thou  me  hear'st  complain ; 
I  need  a  comrade  who  can  share  my  pain  : 
The  livelong  day  I'd  then  my  woes  recite  ; 
Wood  with  wood  joined  will  ever  burn  more  bright. 

Verse. 

"  What  passed  within  my  hearing  of  the  grove, 
O  forest  /eaves.'  did  ye  but  learn, 

Ye\i  mourn  with  me.    My  friends  .'  tell  him  whom  love 
Has  spared,  I  would  he  did  but  burn 
With  lover's  flames  ;  he^d  then  my  grief  discern." 

Verse. 

Scars  may  be  laughed  at  by  the  sound, 

But  to  a  fellow- sufferer  reveal 
Thy  anguish.     Of  the  hornet's  wound 

What  reck  they  who  did  never  feel 
Its  sting?     Till  fortune  shall  bring  round 

Thy  woes  to  thee,  they  will  but  seem 

The  weak  illusions  of  a  dream. 
Do  not  my  sufferings  confound 

With  those  of  others.     Canst  thou  deem 


Gulistan  ;  or,  Rose  Garden.  301 

One  holding  salt '  can  tell  the  pain  of  him 
Who  has  salt  rubbed  upon  his  wounded  limb? 


Story. 

(in  verse.) 

A  gallant  youth  there  was  and  fair 

Pledged  to  a  maid  beyond  compare ; 

They  on  the  sea,  as  poets  tell, 

Together  in  a  whirlpool  fell. 

The  boatman  came  the  youth  to  save  — 

To  snatch  him  from  his  watery  grave  : 

But,  mid  those  billows  of  despair, 

He  cried,  "  My  love  !  my  love  is  there  ! 

Save  her,  oh  save  ! "  he  said,  and  died; 

But  with  his  parting  breath  he  cried, 

"  Not  from  that  wretch  love's  story  hear 

Who  love  forgets  when  peril's  near." 

Together  thus  these  lovers  died. 

Be  told  by  him  who  love  has  tried ; 

For  Sa'di  knows  each  whim  and  freak 

Of  love,  — as  well  its  ways  can  speak 

As  Baghdad's  dwellers  Arabic. 

Hast  thou  a  mistress?  her  then  prize, 

And  on  all  others  close  thine  eyes. 

Could  Majnun  and  his  Laili  back  return, 

They  might  love's  story  from  this  volume  learn. 

1  This  is  a  favorite  comparison  of  Oriental  poets.     Rubbing  salt 
on  a  wound  is  a  proverbial  expression  with  them. 


302  Sa'di. 

Story. 

A  king  handed  over  his  son  to  a  teacher,  and  said, 
"  This  is  my  son ;  educate  him  as  one  of  thine  own 
sons."  The  preceptor  spent  some  years  in  endeavor- 
ing to  teach  him  without  success,  while  his  own  sons 
were  made  perfect  in  learning  and  eloquence.  The 
king  took  the  preceptor  to  task,  and  said,  "  Thou  hast 
acted  contrary  to  thy  agreement,  and  hast  not  been 
faithful  to  thy  promise."  He  replied,  "  O  King  ! 
education  is  the  same,  but  capacities  differ. " 

Stanza. 

Silver' and  gold  'tis  true  in  stones  are  found ; 

Yet  not  all  stones  the  precious  metals  bear : 
Canopus  shines  to  earth's  most  distant  bound ; 

But  here  gives  leather  —  scented  leather  there.1 

Story. 

I  have  heard  of  an  old  doctor  who  said  to  a  pupil, 
"  If  the  minds  of  the  children  of  men  were  as  much 
fixed  on  the  Giver  of  subsistence  as  they  are  on  the 
subsistence  itself,  they  would  rise  above  the  angels." 

Stanza. 

Thou  wast  by  God  then  not  forgotten  when 
Thou  wast  a  seed  —  thy  nature  in  suspense  ; 

1  That  is,  the  light  of  Canopus  in  one  place  causes  the  leather  to 
be  perfumed  (a  strange  notion!),  in  another  leaves  it  in  its  common 


Gulistan ;  or,  Rose  Garden.  303 

He  gave  thee  soul  and  reason,  wisdom,  ken, 
Beauty  and  speech,  reflection,  judgment,  sense ; 

He  on  thy  hand  arrayed  thy  fingers  ten, 

And  thy  arms  fastened  to  thy  shoulders.    Whence 

Canst  thou  then  think,  O  thou  most  weak  of  men  ! 
He'd  be  unmindful  of  thy  subsistence  ? 

Story. 

I  saw  the  son  of  a  rich  man  seated  at  the  head  of 
his  father's  sepulchre,  and  engaged  in  a  dispute  with 
the  son  of  a  poor  man,  and  saying,  "  My  father's  sar- 
cophagus is  of  stone,  and  the  inscription  colored  with 
a  pavement  of  alabaster  and  turquoise  bricks.  What 
resemblance  has  it  to  that  of  thy  father?  which  con- 
sists of  a  brick  or  two  huddled  together,  with  a  few 
handfuls  of  dust  sprinkled  over  it."  The  son  of  the 
poor  man  heard  him,  and  answered,  "  Peace  !  for 
before  thy  father  can  have  moved  himself  under  this 
heavy  stone,  my  sire  will  have  arrived  in  paradise. 
This  is  a  saying  of  the  Prophet :  '  The  death  of  the 
poor  is  repose? 

Couplet. 

Doubtless  the  ass,  on  which  they  do  impose 
The  lightest  burthen,  also  easiest  goes. 

Stanza. 

The  poor  man,  who  the  agony  has  borne 
Of  famine's  pangs,  treads  lightly  to  the  door 


304  Sa'di. 

Of  death.     While  one  from  blessings  torn  — 

From  luxury  and  ease  —  will  grieve  the  more 
To  lose  them.     This  is  certain.     Happier  he 
Whom,  like  a  captive,  death  from  bonds  sets  free, 
Than  great  men,  whom  it  hurries  to  captivity." 

Maxims  on  the  Duties  of  Society. 

maxim. 

Riches  are  for  the  sake  of  making  life  comfortable, 
not  life  for  the  sake  of  amassing  riches.  I  asked  a 
wise  man,  "  Who  is  fortunate  and  who  unfortunate?" 
He  replied,  "The  fortunate  is  he  who  sowed  and 
reaped  ;  the  unfortunate  he  who  died  and  abandoned." 

Couplet 

Not  for  that  worthless  one  a  prayer  afford, 

Who  life  in  hoarding  spent — ne'er  spent  his  hoard. 

maxim. 

Two  men  have  labored  fruitlessly  and  exerted 
themselves  to  no  purpose.  One  is  the  man  who  has 
gained  wealth  without  enjoying  it;  the  other  he  who 
has  acquired  knowledge  but  has  failed  to  practise  it. 

Distichs. 

How  much  soe'er  thou  learn'st,  'tis  all  vain ; 
Who  practised  not,  still  ignorant  remain. 


Gulistan ;  or,  Rose  Garden.  305 

A  quadruped,  with  volumes  laden,  is 
No  whit  the  wiser  or  more  sage  for  this  : 
How  can  the  witless  animal  discern, 
If  books  be  piled  on  it?  or  wood  to  burn? 

MAXIM. 

Science  is  for  the  cultivation  of  religion,  not  for 
worldly  enjoyments. 

Couplet. 

Who  makes  a  gain  of  virtue,  science,  lore, 
Is  one  who  garners  up,  then  burns  his  store. 

MAXIM. 

Three  things  lack  permanency,  uncombined  with 
three  other  things  :  wealth  without  trading ;  learning 
without  instruction ;  and  empire  without  a  strict  ad- 
ministration of  justice. 

Stanza. 

By  courteous  speech,  politeness,  gentleness, 
Sometimes  thou  mayest  direct  the  human  will : 

Anon  by  threats  ;  for  it  oft  profits  less 
With  sugar  twice  a  hundred  cups  to  fill, 
Than  from  one  colocynth  its  bitters  to  distil. 

MAXIM. 

To  show  pity  to  the  bad  is  to  oppress  the  good,  and 
to  pardon  oppressors  is  to  tyrannize  over  the  oppressed. 


306  Sa'di. 

Couplet. 

When  thou  to  base  men  giv'st  encouragement. 

Thou  shar'st  their  sins,  since  thou  them  aid  hast  lent. 

MAXIM. 

No  reliance  can  be  placed  on  the  friendship  of 
princes,  nor  must  we  plume  ourselves  on  the  sweet 
voices  of  children,  since  that  is  changed  by  a  caprice, 
and  these  by  a  single  slumber. 

Couplet. 

On  the  mistress  of  a  thousand  hearts,  do  not  thy  love 

bestow ; 
But  if  thou  wilt,  prepare  eftsoons  her  friendship  to 

forego. 

MAXIM. 

Reveal  not  to  a  friend  every  secret  that  thou  pos- 
sessest.  How  knowest  thou  whether  at  some  time  he 
may  not  become  an  enemy?  Nor  inflict  on  thy  enemy 
every  injury  that  is  in  thy  power ;  perchance  he 
may  some  day  become  thy  friend.  Tell  not  the 
secret  that  thou  wouldst  have  continue  hidden  to  any 
person,  although  he  may  be  worthy  of  confidence  ;  for 
no  one  will  be  so  careful  of  thy  secret  as  thyself. 

Stanza. 

Better  be  silent,  than  thy  purpose  tell 
To  others  ;  and  enjoin  them  secrecy. 


Gulistan ;  or,  Rose  Garden.  }Q7 

O  dolt !   keep  back  the  water  at  the  well, 

For  the  swollen  stream  to  stop  thou'lt  vainly  try. 
In  private,  utter  not  a  single  word 
Which  thou  in  public  wouldst.  regret  were  heard. 

MAXIM. 

Let  thy  words  between  two  foes  be  such  that  if  they 
were  to  become  friends  thou  wouldst  not  be  ashamed. 

Distichs. 

Like  fire  is  strife  betwixt  two  enemies : 

The  luckless  mischief-maker  wood  supplies. 

Struck  with  confusion  and  ashamed  is  he, 

If  e'er  the  two  belligerents  agree. 

Can  we  in  this  aught  rational  discern  — 

To  light  a  fire  which  will  ourselves  first  burn? 

Stanza. 

In  talk  with  friends  speak  soft  and  low, 

Lest  thy  bloodthirsty  foeman  thee  should  hear : 

A  wall  may  front  thee  —  true  !  but  dost  thou  know 
If  there  be  not  behind  a  listening  ear  ? 


MAXIM. 

Whoever  comes  to  an  agreement  with  the  enemies 
of  his  friends,  does  so  with  the  intention  of  injuring 
the  latter. 


308  Sa'dl 


Couplet. 


Eschew  that  friend,  if  thou  art  wise, 
Who  consorts  with  thy  enemies. 


MAXIM. 

When,  in  transacting  business,  thou  art  in  doubt, 
make  choice  of  that  side  from  which  the  least  injury 
will  result. 

Couplet. 

Reply  not  roughly  to  smooth  language,  nor 
Contend  with  him  who  knocks  at  peace's  door. 

MAXIM. 

Anger  that  has  no  limit  causes  terror,  and  unseason- 
able kindness  does  away  with  respect.  Be  not  so 
severe  as  to  cause  disgust,  nor  so  lenient  as  to  make 
people  presume. 

Distichs. 

Sternness  and  gentleness  are  best  combined : 
The  leech  both  salves  and  scarifies,  you  find. 
The  sage  is  not  too  rigorous,  nor  yet 
Too  mild,  lest  men  their  awe  of  him  forget : 
He  seeks  not  for  himself  too  high  a  place ; 
Nor  will  himself  too  suddenly  abase. 


Gulistan  ;  or,  Rose  Garden.  309 

Distichs. 

Once  to  his  sire  a  shepherd  said,  "  O  Sage  ! 
Teach  me  one  maxim  worthy  of  thy  age.'' 
"  Use  gentleness,"  he  said,  "yet  not  so  much, 
That  the  wolf  be  emboldened  thee  to  clutch." 

MAXIM. 

Two  persons  are  the  foes  of  a  state  and  of  religion 
a  king  without  clemency,  and  a  religious  man  without 
learning. 

Couplet. 

Ne'er  to  that  king  may  states  allegiance  own, 
Who  bows  not  humbly  at  th'  Almighty's  throne. 

MAXIM. 

When  an  enemy  has  tried  every  expedient  in  vain, 
he  will  pretend  friendship,  and  then,  by  this  pretext, 
execute  designs  which  no  enemy  could  have  effected. 

MAXIM. 

When  thou  knowest  tidings  that  will  pain  the  heart 
of  any  one,  be  silent,  so  that  another  may  be  the  first 
to  convey  them. 

Couplet. 

O  nightingale  !  spring's  tidings  breathe, 
111  rumors  to  the  owls  bequeath. 


MO  Sa'di. 


MAXIM. 

Do  not  acquaint  a  king  with  the  treason  of  any  one 
unless  when  thou  art  assured  that  the  disclosure  will 
meet  with  his  full  approval,  else  thou  art  but  laboring 
for  thy  own  destruction. 

Couplet. 

Then,  only  then,  to  speak  intend 
When  speaking  can  effect  thy  end. 


MAXIM. 

He  who  gives  advice  to  a  conceited  man  is  himself 
in  need  of  counsel. 

MAXIM. 

Be  not  caught  by  the  artifice  of  a  foe,  nor  purchase 
pride  of  a  flatterer ;  for  the  one  has  set  the  snare  of 
hypocrisy,  and  the  other  has  opened  the  mouth  of 
greediness.  The  fool  is  puffed  up  with  flattery,  like  a 
corpse  whose  inflated  heels  appear  plump. 

Stanza. 

Heed  not  the  flatterer's  fulsome  talk, 

He  from  thee  hopes  some  trifle  to  obtain ; 

Thou  wilt,  shouldst  thou  his  wishes  balk, 

Two  hundred  times  as  much  of  censure  gain. 


Gulistan ;  or,  Rose  Garden.  31 1 


MAXIM. 

Until  some  one  points  out  to  an  orator  his  defects,  his 
discourse  will  never  be  amended. 

Couplet. 

To  vaunt  of  one's  own  speaking  is  not  meet, 
At  fools'  approval  and  one's  own  conceit. 

MAXIM. 

Every  one  thinks  his  own  judgment  perfect,  and  his 
own  son  beautiful. 

Verse. 

A  Jew  and  Mussulman  once  so  contended 

That  laughter  seized  me  as  their  contest  grew. 

The  true  believer  thus  his  cause  defended  : 
"  Is  this  bond  false,  then  may  I  die  a  Jew  !  " 

The  Jew  replied  :  "  By  Moses'  books  I  vow  that 
'Tis  true,  or  else  a  Mussulman  am  I  ! " 
So  from  earth's  face  were  Wisdom's  self  to  fly, 

Not  one  could  be  amongst  us  found  t'  allow  that 
He  judgment  lacked,  or  himself  stultify. 

MAXIM. 

Whosoever  does  no  good  when  he  has  the  ability  to 
do  it,  in  the  time  of  inability  to  aid  others  will  himself 
suffer  distress. 


312  Sa'di. 

Couplet. 

Ill-starred,  indeed,  is  he  who  injures  men : 
Is  fortune  adverse,  he  is  friendless  then. 

MAXIM. 

Affairs  succeed  by  patience ;  and  he  that  is  hasty 
falleth  headlong. 

Dis  ticks. 

I've  in  the  desert  with  these  eyes  beheld 
The  hurrying  pilgrim  to  the  slow-stepped  yield  : 
The  rapid  courser  in  the  rear  remains, 
While  the  slow  camel  still  its  step  maintains. 

MAXIM. 

There  is  no  better  ornament  for  the  ignorant  than 
silence,  and  did  he  but  know  this  he  would  not  be 
ignorant. 

Stanza. 

Hast  thou  not  perfect  excellence,  'tis  best 
To  keep  thy  tongue  in  silence,  for  'tis  this 

Which  shames  a  man ;  as  lightness  does  attest 
The  nut  is  empty,  nor  of  value  is. 

Stanza. 

Once,  in  these  words,  a  fool  rebuked  an  ass,  — 
"  Go,  thou  who  all  thy  life  hast  lived  in  vain  ! ,J 


Gulistan  ;  or,  Rose  Garden.  313 

A  sage  said  to  him,  "  Blockhead  !  why  dost  pass 
Thy  time  in  this?     Gibes  will  be  all  thy  gain. 

To  learn  of  thee  a  brute  no  power  has  : 
Learn  thou  of  brutes  in  silence  to  remain." 


MAXIM. 

Whoso  sits  with  bad  men  will  not  see  aught  good. 

Dis  ticks. 

With  demons  did  an  angel  take  his  seat, 
He'd  learn  but  terror,  treason,  and  deceit : 
Thou  from  the  bad  wilt  nothing  learn  but  ill ; 
The  wolf  will  ne'er  the  furrier's  office  fill. 

MAXIM. 

Divulge  not  the  secret  faults  of  men;  for  at  the 
same  time  that  thou  disgracest  them  thou  wilt  destroy 
thy  own  credit. 

MAXIM. 

He  that  has  acquired  learning  and  not  practised 
what  he  has  learnt,  is  like  a  man  who  ploughs  but 
sows  no  seed. 

MAXIM. 

Worship  cannot  be  performed  by  the  body  without 
the  mind,  and  a  shell  without  a  kernel  will  not  do  for 
merchandise. 


314  Sa'du 

MAXIM. 

Not  every  one  who  is  ready  at  wrangling  is  correct 
in  his  dealings. 

Couplet. 

Forms  enow  beneath  the  mantle  wear   the   outward 

signs  of  grace ; 
But  if  thou    shouldst    them   unwimple,  thou  wouldst 

find  a  grandam's  face. 

MAXIM. 

Not  every  one  whose  outward  form  is  graceful  pos- 
sesses the  graces  of  the  mind ;  for  action  depends  on 
the  heart,  not  on  the  exterior. 

Stanza. 

From  a  man's  qualities  a  day's  enough 
To  make  us  of  his  learning's  limit  sure. 

Plume  not  thyself  as  though  the  hidden  stuff 
Thou  of  his  heart  hast  reached  ;  nor  be  secure, 

For  not  e'en  long  revolving  years  can  tell 

The  foul  things  which  in  man  unnoticed  dwell. 

MAXIM. 

A  weak  man,  who  has  the  foolhardiness  to  contend 
with  a  strong  one,  assists  his  adversary  in  destroying 
himself. 


Gnlistan ;  or,  Rose  Garden.  31 5 

Stanza. 

He  who  was  nursed  in  soft  repose 

Cannot  with  warriors  to  the  battle  go ; 

Vain  with  his  weakly  arm  to  close, 
And  struggle  with  an  iron-wristed  foe. 


MAXIM. 

Whoso  will  not  listen  to  advice  aims  at  hearing  him- 
self reproached. 

Couplet. 

He  who  will  not  to  friends'  advice  attend, 
Must  not  complain  when  they  him  reprehend. 

MAXIM. 

Persons  devoid  of  virtue  cannot  endure  the  sight  of 
the  virtuous ;  just  as  market  curs,  when  they  see  dogs 
of  the  chase,  bark  at  them,  but  dare  not  approach 
them. 

MAXIM. 

When  a  base  fellow  cannot  vie  with  another  in  merit, 
he  will  attack  him  with  malicious  slander. 

Couplet. 

Weak  envy  absent  virtue  slanders,  —  Why? 
Since  it  is  dumb,  perforce,  when  it  is  by. 


16  Sa'du 


MAXIM. 


Wise  men  eat  late;  devout  men  but  half  satisfy 
their  appetites ;  and  hermits  take  only  enough  to 
support  life  ;  the  young  eat  till  the  dishes  are  removed, 
and  the  old  till  they  sweat ;  but  the  Kalandars1  stuff 
till  they  have  no  room  in  their  stomachs  to  breathe, 
and  not  a  morsel  is  left  on  the  table  for  any  one. 

Couplet. 

The  glutton  for  two  nights  no  sleep  can  get ; 
The  first  from  surfeit,  the  next  from  regret. 


MAXIM. 

Whoso  slays  not  his  enemy  when  he  is  in  his  power 
is  his  own  enemy. 

Couplet. 

When  a  stone  is  in  the  hand ;  on  a  stone  the  serpent's 

pate; 
He  is  not  a  man  of  sense  who  to  strike  should  hesitate. 

There  are,  however,  persons  who  think  the  opposite 
of  this  advisable,  and  have  said,  "  It  is  better  to  pause 
in  the  execution  of  prisoners,  inasmuch  as  the  option 
[of  slaying  or  pardoning  them]  is  retained.  Whereas, 
if  a  prisoner  be  put  to  death  without  deliberation,  it  is 

1  A  sort  of  fakir. 


Gulistan ;  or,  Rose  Garden.  3 1 7 

probable  that  the  best  course  will  be  let  slip,  since  the 
step  is  irremediable." 

Couplets. 

Tis  very  easy  one  alive  to  slay ; 
Not  so  to  give  back  life  thou  tak'st  away  : 
Reason  demands  that  archers  patience  show, 
For  shafts  once  shot  return  not  to  the  bow. 

MAXIM. 

The  sage  who  engages  in  controversy  with  ignorant 
people  must  not  expect  to  be  treated  with  honor-; 
and  if  a  fool  should  overpower  a  philosopher  by  his 
loquacity,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  for  a  common 
stone  will  break  a  jewel. 

Couplet. 

What  marvel  is  it  if  his  spirits  droop  ? 

A  nightingale  —  and  with  him  crows  to  coop  ! 

Couplets. 

What  if  a  vagabond  on  merit  rail? 
Let  not  the  spirits  of  the  worthy  fail : 
A  common  stone  may  break  a  golden  cup ; 
Its  value  goes  not  down,  the  stone's  not  up. 

MAXIM. 

It  is  not  right  to  estrange  in  a  moment  a  friend 
whom  it  takes  a  lifetime  to  secure. 


3I8  Sa'du 

Triplet. 

'Tis  years  before  the  pebble  can  put  on 

The  ruby's  nature.  —  Wilt  thou  on  a  stone 

In  one  short  moment  mar  what  time  has  done  ? 


MAXIM. 

Purpose  without  power  is  mere  weakness  and  de- 
ception; and  power  without  purpose  is  fatuity  and 
insanity. 

Couplet. 

Have  judgment,  counsel,  sense,  and  then  bear  rule  ; 
Wealth,  empire,  are  self-murder  to  the  fool. 

The  liberal  man,  who  enjoys  and  bestows,  is  better 
than  the  devotee,  who  fasts  and  lays  by.  Whoso 
abandons  lust  in  order  to  gain  acceptance  with  the 
world  has  fallen  from  venial  desires  into  those  which 
are  unpardonable. 

Couplet. 

Hermits,  who  are  not  so  through  piety, 
Darken  a  glass  and  then  attempt  to  see. 

Couplet. 

Little  to  little  added  much  will  grow : 

The  barn's  store,  grain  by  grain,  is  gathered  so. 

Many  littles  make  a  mickle,  many  drops  a  flood. 


Gulistan ;  or,  Rose  Garden.  319 


MAXIM. 

It  is  not  right  for  a  learned  man  to  pass  over  leniently 
the  foolish  impertinences  of  the  vulgar,  for  this  is  det- 
rimental to  both  parties  :  the  awe  which  the  former 
ought  to  inspire  is  diminished,  and  the  folly  of  the  latter 
augmented. 

Couplet. 

Art  thou  with  fools  too  courteous  and  too  free, 
Their  pride  and  folly  will  augmented  be. 


MAXIM. 

People  forget  the  name  of  him  whose  bread  they 
have  not  tasted  during  his  lifetime.  Joseph  the  just 
(Peace  be  on  him  !),  during  the  famine  in  Egypt, 
would  not  eat  so  as  to  satisfy  his  appetite,  that  he 
might  not  forget  the  hungry.  It  is  the  poor  widow 
that  relishes  the  grapes,  not  the  owner  of  the  vine- 
yard.1 

Couplets. 

He  who  in  pleasure  and  abundance  lives, 
What  knows  he  of  the  pang  that  hunger  gives? 
He  can  affliction  best  appreciate, 
Who  has  himself  experienced  the  same  state. 

1  That  is,  We  estimate  blessings  when  we  are  deprived  of  them 
and  value  highly  what  is  beyond  our  reach. 


320  Sa'di. 

Stanza. 

O  thou  !  who  rid'st  a  mettled  courser,  see 

How  toils,  mid  mire,  the  poor  thorn-loaded  ass  ! 

From  poor  men's  houses,  let  no  fire  for  thee 

Be  brought.    The  wreaths  which  from  their  chimney 
pass 

Are  sighs  wrung  from  their  hearts  by  destiny.1 

MAXIM. 

Two  things  are  impossible  :  to  obtain  more  food 
than  what  Providence  destines  for  us  ;  and  to  die  before 
the  time  known  to  God. 

Stanza. 

Fate  is  not  altered  by  a  thousand  sighs ; 

Complain  or  render  thanks  —  arrive  it  will : 
The  angel  at  whose  bidding  winds  arise 

Cares  little  for  the  widow's  lamp,  if  still 
It  burns,  or  by  the  storm  extinguished  dies. 

MAXIM. 

The  envious  man  begrudgeth  God's  blessings,  and 
is  the  foe  of  the  innocent. 

Stanza. 

A  wretched  crack-brained  fellow  once  I  saw, 
Who  slandered  one  of  lofty  dignity ; 

1  That  is,  do  not  wring  from  the  poor  the  smallest  trifle.  The  com- 
parison between  smoke  and  a  sigh  is  a  simile  in  which  Orientals 
delight,  inept  as  it  appears  to  us. 


. 


Gulistan  ;  or,  Rose  Garden.  32 1 

I  said,  "  Good  sir  !   I  grant  thee  that  a  flaw 
May  in  thy  fortunes  be  observed,  —  but  why 
Impute  it  to  the  man  who  lives  more  happily?" 

Second  Stanza. 

Oh  !  on  the  envious  man  invoke  no  curse, 
For  of  himself,  poor  wretch  !  accursed  is  he  ; 

On  him  no  hatred  can  inflict  aught  worse 
Than  his  self-fed,  self- torturing  enmity. 


MAXIM. 

A  student  without  the  inclination  to  learn  is  a  lover 
without  money ;  and  a  pilgrim  without  spirituality  is  a 
bird  without  wings ;  and  a  devotee  without  learning  is 
a  house  without  a  door. 


SELECTIONS  FROM  THE  BUSTAN. 


The  Moth  and  the  Flame.1 

One  night — I  do  remember  —  when  mine  eyes 
Closed  not.     I  heard  a  talking  in  this  wise  : 

Moth  said  to  Lamp-flame,  "  Ah,  my  Well-beloved  ! 
I  am  a  Lover ;  this  is  no  surprise 

"  If  I  do  weep  and  burn ;  but  thou  !  but  thou  ! 
Why  do  I  see  thee  weeping,  burning,  now  ?  " 

The  Lamp  replied,  "  Shirin-i-man  !  Soft  Lover  ! 
The  honey  of  my  life  melts  from  my  brow  !  " 

It  said,  "  Oh,  tearful  Lover  !  cease  to  sigh, 
Passion's  worst  pangs  thou  knowest  not,  as  I  : 

Leave  claiming,  leave  lamenting,  or  come  boldly  ! 
Nor  power,  nor  patience  of  Love's  mystery 

"  Hast  thou,  who  fliest  from  my  naked  fire, 
Desiring,  yet  afraid  of  thy  Desire  ! 

Hither  and  thither  dost  thou  flutter,  fearful ; 
But  I  consume,  exhale,  glow,  and  expire. 

"  If  flame  of  Love  thy  silver  feathers  scorch, 
Look  upon  me,  who  am  Love's  kindled  Torch  ! 

1  Translated  by  Sir  Edwin  Arnold.    This  celebrated  poem   is 
usually  called  "  The  Moth  and  the  Candle." 

323 


324  Sa'di. 

Think  on  the  blaze  and  torrent  of  my  burning, 
Forget  my  splendor,  lighting  court  and  porch  ! " 

There  lingered  some  little  of  the  night, 
When  one  of  Pari -face  put  out  that  light ; 

The  smoke  rose  like  a  parting  soul :  it  whispered, 
"  Look,  Lover  !  now,  indeed,  Love  endeth  right. 

"This  is  the  Road  !  Rah  in  ast!  learn  of  me; 
Dying  thou  gainest  Love's  best  ecstasy  !  " 

Make  over  Lover  slain  no  lamentation  ; 
Cry  Shukur  !  thanks  !  —  He  is  accepted  ;  he. 

Oh,  if  thou  be'st  true  Lover,  wash  not  hand 
From  that  dear  stain  of  Love  !  from  worldly  brand 

Of  wealth  and  self-love  wash  it !     At  the  last 
Those  win,  who  spite  of  Fortune's  tempests,  stand, 

Glad  to  wreck  all  for  Love.     I  say  to  thee  — 
I,  Sa'di —  launch  not  on  that  boundless  Sea  ! 

But,  if  thou  puttest  forth,  hoist  sail,  quit  anchor ! 
To  storm  and  wave  trust  thyself  hardily  ! 

Story   of  the   Pearl.1 

From  a  cloud  there  descended  a  droplet  of  rain ; 
'Twas  ashamed  when  it  saw  the  expanse  of  the  main, 
Saying,  "  Who  may  I  be,  where  the  sea  has  its  run? 
If  the  sea  has  existence,  I  truly  have  none !  " 

1  Translations  by  G.  S.  Davie. 


Bust  an.  32$ 

Since  in  its  own  eyes  the  drop  humble  appeared, 
In  its  bosom,  a  shell  with  its  life  the  drop  reared ; 
The  sky  brought  the  work  with  success  to  a  close, 
And  a  famed  royal  pearl  from  the  rain-drop  arose. 
Because  it  was  humble  it  excellence  gained ; 
Patiently  waiting  till  success  was  obtained. 

The  Death  of  Sa'di's  Son. 

At  Sana *  a  young  child  of  mine  melted  away ; 
Of  all  that  occurred  to  me,  what  shall  I  say? 
A  Joseph-like  picture  the  Fates  never  gave, 
But  was,  Jonah-like,  gulped  by  the  fish  of  the  grave. 
In  this  garden,  a  cypress  ne'er  reached  any  height, 
But  the  tempests  of  fate  pulled  its  roots  from  their  site. 
No  wonder  that  roses  will  blow  on  the  ground, 
When,  beneath  it,  so  many  rose -bodies  sleep  sound  ! 
To  my  heart,  I  said,  "  Die,  thou  disgrace  to  mankind  ! 
The  child  goes  off  pure,  the  old  man,  vile  in  mind  !  " 

Out  of  love  and  distress,  for  his  stature  alone, 
From  his  tomb  I  extracted  a  panel  of  stone. 
On  account  of  my  dread,  in  that  dark,  narrow  place, 
My  disconsolate  state  changed  the  hue  of  my  face. 
When  I  came  to  myself,  from  that  horrible  fear, 
From  my  darling,  loved  child,  this  arrived  at  my  ear : 
"  If  this  region  of  darkness  produced  in  you  fright, 
Take  care,  when  you  enter,  to  carry  a  light  !  " 
If  you  wish  that  the  night  of  the  tomb  should  appear 

1  Sana,  the  capital  ot  Arabia  Felix,  where  Sa'di's  second  marriage 
occurred. 


326  Sa'du 

Bright  as  day,  light  the  lamp  of  your  actions  while  here  ! 
Shakes  the  husbandman's  body,  from  fever  and  care, 
Peradventure  the  palms  should  not  luscious  dates  bear. 
Some  covetous  men  the  opinion  maintain, 
That,  without  sowing  wheat,  they'll  a  harvest  obtain  ! 
He  who  planted  the  root,  Sa'di,  on  the  fruit  feeds  ! 
He  will  gather  the  harvest,  who  scattered  the  seeds  ! 

Patience  and  Contentment. 

In  a  generous  man's  spirit  perfection  is  bred  ; 

If  no  money  he  owns,  what's  the  harm  or  the  dread? 

Were  a  miser  with  Croesus  in  riches  to  range, 

Do  not  think  that  his  miserly  spirit  would  change  ! 

If  a  liberal  person  obtains  not  his  bread, 

His  spirit  is  rich,  just  as  if  he  were  fed. 

The  giving's  the  ground  and  the  means,  the  sown  field  ; 

Bestow  !  that  the  root  fertile  branches  may  yield. 

I  would  wonder  where  God,  who  makes  man  out  of 

clay, 
To  make  his  humanity  vanish  away, 
In  holding  up  wealth,  do  not  strive  to  excel ! 
For  water  when  stagnant  emits  a  bad  smell. 
In  munificence  labor  !  for  water  that  flows, 
By  the  favor  of  Heaven  to  a  mighty  flood  grows  ! 
If  a  miser  should  fall  from  his  wealth  and  estate, 
Very  rarely  again  will  his  riches  be  great. 
If  you  are  a  jewel  of  worth,  do  not  fret ! 
For  time  will  not  cause  your  existence  to  set. 
A  clod  may  be  lying  exposed  on  the  way ; 


Bustan.  327 

Yet  I  do  not  see  any  one  heed  to  it  pay. 
If  a  clipping  of  gold  should  escape  from  the  shears, 
With  a  candle  they  search  for  it,  till  it  appears. 
From  the  heart  of  a  stone  they  can  crystal  obtain ; 
Where  under  the  rust  does  a  mirror  remain? 
The  manners  must  please  and  exhibit  much  grace, 
For  coming  and  going  are  Fortune  and  Place. 

The  Sufi  and  the  Slanderer. 

Said  a  man  to  a  Sufi,  with  sanctity  blest, 

"  You  know  not  what  some  one  behind  you  expressed." 

He  said,  "  Silence  !   O  brother  !  and  sleep  it  away  ! 

It  is  best  not  to  know  what  your  enemies  say  ! 

Those  people  who  carry  the  words  of  a  foe, 

Than  enemies,  truly,  more  enmity  show. 

The  remarks  of  a  foe,  to  a  friend  no  one  bears, 

Excepting  the  man  who  his  enmity  shares. 

A  foe  cannot  speak  with  such  hardiness  to  me, 

That  from  hearing,  my  body  should  shivering  be  ! 

You  are  worse  than  a  foe  !  with  your  lips  you  unfold 

The  same  that  the  foe  to  you  privately  told  ! " 

A  talebearer  gives  to  old  war  a  fresh  life, 

And  urges  a  good,  gentle  person  to  strife. 

Fly  away  from  that  comrade,  while  strength  in  you  lies  ! 

Who  says  unto  sleeping  sedition,  "  Arise  !  " 

A  man  in  a  pit,  with  his  feet  firmly  bound, 

Is  better  than  spreading  disturbance  around. 

Between  two,  an  encounter  resembles  a  fire, 

And  the  ill-omened  tell-tales  the  fuel  supplier. 


328  Sa'di. 

Sympathy  for  Orphans. 

A  shade  o'er  the  head  of  the  orphan  boy  put ! 
Disperse  all  his  sighs  and  his  sorrows  uproot ! 
You  know  not  why  he  has  this  helplessness  seen  ! 
Does  a  tree  without  root  ever  show  itself  green? 
When  you  see  the  sad  head  of  an  orphan  bent  low, 
On  the  face  of  your  son,  do  not  kisses  bestow  ! 
If  an  orphan  should  weep,  who  will  purchase  relief? 
And  should  he  be  vexed,  who  will  share  in  his  grief? 
Take  care  !  lest  he  weeps,  for  the  great  throne  on  high 
Will  tremble  and  shake,  should  an  orphan  child  cry  ! 
By  kindness,  the  tears  from  his  pure  eyes  displace  ! 
By  compassion,  disperse  all  the  dust  from  his  face  ! 
If  his  own  sheltering  shadow  has  gone  from  his  head, 
Take  him  under  your  own  fostering  shadow  instead  ! 
I  at  that  time  the  head  of  a  monarch  possessed, 
When  I  let  it  recline  on  my  own  father's  breast ; 
If  a  fly  on  my  body  made  bold  to  alight, 
The  hearts  of  a  number  were  grieved  at  the  sight. 
If  now  to  a  dungeon  they  captive  me  bear, 
Not  one  of  my  friends  to  assist  me  would  care. 
The  sufferings  of  poor  orphan  children  I  know ; 
In  my  childhood,  my  father  to  God  had  to  go. 

Dealing  with  Enemies. 

Until  your  diplomacy  terminates  right, 

It  is  better  to  flatter  your  foe,  than  to  fight. 

When,  by  force,  you're  unable  to  vanquish  your  foes, 

By  favors,  the  portal  of  strife  you  must  close  ! 


Bustan.  329 

If  you  fear  lest  you  be  by  an  enemy  stung, 
With  the  charm  of  munificence,  tie  up  his  tongue  ! 
Give  your  enemy  money?  —  not  thorns  from  a  hedge  ! 
For  munificence  blunts  all  the  teeth  that  have  edge. 
By  skill,  you  can  coax  and  enjoy  earthly  bliss ; 
The  hand  you  can't  bite,  it  is  proper  to  kiss  ! 
By  management,  Rustem  will  come  to  the  noose, 
From  whose  coil,  Asfandyar1  could  not  cast  himself 

loose. 
You  can  find  the  occasion  your  foe's  skin  to  rend ; 
Take  care  of  him  !  then,  as  you  would  of  a  friend. 
Be  cautious  in  fighting  with  one  you  despise  ! 
From  a  drop,  I  have  oft  seen  a  torrent  arise. 
While  you  can,  let  not  knots  on  your  eyebrows   be 

seen  ! 
An  opponent  is  best  as  a  friend,  although  mean. 
His  foe  shows  delight,  and  his  friend  shows  distress, 
Whose  friends  are,  in  count,  than  his  enemies  less. 
With  an  army  exceeding  your  own,  do  not  fight ! 
For  you  can't  with  your  finger  a  lancet's  point  smite. 
And  should  you  be  stronger  in  war  than  your  foe, 
To  the  weak,  'tis  unmanly  oppression  to  show  ! 
Though  you've  lion-like  hands  and  an  elephant's  force, 
Peace  is  better  than  war,  as  a  matter  of  course. 
When  the  hand  has  by  every  deception  been  torn, 
The  hand  to  the  sword  may  be  lawfully  borne. 
Should  your  foe  wish  for  peace,  his   request  do  not 

spurn  ! 

1  Asfandyar,  a  Persian  king,  son  of  Darius-Hystaspes,  lassoed  by 
Rustem. 


330  Sa'di. 

And  should  he  seek  battle,  the  reins  do  not  turn  ! 

For  should  he  resolve  to  resist  in  the  field, 

The  strength  and  the  awe  of  a  thousand  you'll  wield. 

If  his  foot  he  has  placed  in  the  stirrup  of  war, 

You  won't  be  arraigned  at  the  Great  Judgment  Bar. 

Be  prepared,  too,  for  war,  should  sedition  awake  ! 

For  kindness  to  blackguards  is  quite  a  mistake. 

If  you  talk  in  an  affable  way  to  a  wretch, 

His  presumption  and  arrogance  higher  will  stretch. 

When  your  enemy,  vanquished,  approaches  your  gate, 

Cast  revenge  from  your  heart  and  cast  ire  from  your 

pate  ! 
You  should  kindness  bestow  when  he  asks  for  your 

care ; 
Be  gracious  !  and  of  his  deceptions,  beware  ! 
From  an  aged  man's  counselling  turn  not  away  ! 
For  he  knows  his  work  well  who  has  lived  to  be  gray  ! 
And  should  they  remove  from  its  site  the  stronghold — 
The  youth  with  the  sword  and  with  wisdom  the  old  — 
In  the  thick  of  the  fight,  bear  a  refuge  in  mind  ! 
What  know  you  which  side  will  the  victory  find? 
When  you  see  that  your  army  has  lost  in  the  strife, 
Alone,  do  not  ca*st  to  the  wind  your  sweet  life  ! 
Should  your  place  be  the  border,  make  running  your 

care  ! 
And  if  in  the  middle,  the  foe's  raiment  wear  ! 
If  you  number  two  thousand — two  hundred  your  foe, — 
When  night  has  arrived  from  his  clime  you  should  go  ! 
At  night,  Fifty  horsemen  from  lying  in  wait, 
Like  Five  Hundred,  a  noise  on  the  ground  will  create. 


Bust  an.  33 1 

When  you  wish  to  accomplish  some  marches  by  night, 

First,  look  for  the  ambushes,  hidden  from  sight  ! 

When  one  of  two  armies  has  marched  for  a  day, 

The  strength  from  his  hands  will  have  dwindled  away ; 

At  your  leisure  the  army  exhausted  attack  ! 

For  the  fool  has  himself  placed  a  load  on  his  back. 

When  you've  vanquished  your  foe,  do  not  lower  your 

flag! 
Lest  again  he  should  gather  his  forces,  and  brag. 
In  pursuit  of  the  fugitives,  go  not  too  far  ! 
For  you  should  not  lose  sight  of  your  comrades  in  war. 
When  the  air,  from  war's  dust,  like  a  cloud  to  you  shows, 
Around  you,  with  spears  and  with  swords,  they  will 

close. 
From  searching  for  plunder,  the  soldier  refrains, 
Who,  alone,  at  the  back  of  the  monarch  remains. 
To  an  army,  the  duty  of  guarding  the  king, 
Is  better  than  fight  in  the  battle-field's  ring. 

Of  Sa'di's  Journey  to  Hindustan  and  the  Deprav- 
ity of  Idolatry. 


An  ivory  idol  I  saw  at  Somnat,1 
Begemmed,  as  in  paganish  times  was  Monat.2 
So  well  had  the  sculptor  its  features  designed, 
That  an  image  more  perfect  no  mortal  could  find. 
Caravans  from  each  district  were  moving  along ; 

1  Somnat,   a  famous   Hindu  temple   in   Guzerat,  destroyed  by 
Mahmud  of  Ghazni. 

2  Monat,  one  of  the  chief  idols  uf  pagan  Arabia. 


332  Sa'di. 

To  look  at  that  spiritless  image  they  throng. 
Kings  of  China  and  Chighil,  like  Sa'di,  forsooth  ! 
From  that  hard-hearted  idol  were  longing  for  truth. 
Men  of  eloquence,  gathered  from  every  place, 
Were  beseeching  in  front  of  that  dumb  idol's  face. 
I  was  helpless  to  clear  up  the  circumstance,  how    . 
The  Animate  should  to  the  inanimate  bow? 
To  a  pagan  with  whom  I  had  something  to  do  — 
A  companion  well  spoken,  a  chum  of  mine,  too  — 
I  remarked  in  a  whisper,  "  O  Brahmin,  so  wise  ! 
At  the  scenes  in  this  place  I  experience  surprise  ! 
About  this  helpless  form  they  are  crazed  in  their  mind, 
And  in  error's  deep  pit  are  as  captives  confined. 
Its  hands  have  no  strength,  and  its  feet  have  no  pace ; 
And  if  thrown  on  the  ground  'twould  not  rise  from  its 

place. 
Don't  you  see  that  its  eyes  are  but  amber,  let  in? 
To  seek  for  good  faith  in  the  blind  is  a  sin  !  " 
That  friend  at  my  speech  to  an  enemy  turned ; 
He  seized  me,  and,  fire-like,  from  anger  he  burned. 
He  told  all  the  pagans  and  temple  old  men ; 
I  saw  not  my  welfare  in  that  meeting  then. 
Since  the  crooked  road  seemed  unto  them  to  be  right, 
The  straight  road  very  crooked  appeared  in  their  sight ; 
For  although  a  good  man  may  be  pious  and  wise, 
He's  an  ignorant  fool  in  the  ignorant's  eyes. 
I  was  helpless  to  aid  as  a  man  being  drowned; 
Except  in  abasement  no  method  I  found. 
When  you  see  that  a  fool  has  malevolence  shown, 
Resignation  and  meekness  give  safety  alone. 


Bustan.  333 

The  chief  of  the  Brahmins  I  praised  to  the  skies  : 
"  Of  the  Zend  and  Asta !  oh,  expounder  most  wise  ! 
With  this  idol's  appearance  I'm  satisfied,  too ; 
For  the  face  and  the  features  are  charming  to  view. 
Its  figure  appears  very  choice  in  my  sight ; 
But  regarding  the  truth  I  am  ignorant,  quite. 
I  am  here  as  a  traveller  a  very  short  while, 
And  a  stranger  knows  seldom  the  good  from  the  vile. 
You're  the  queen  of  the  chess-board  and  therefore  aware; 
And  the  monarch's  adviser  of  this  temple  fair. 
To  worship  by  mimicking,  doubtless,  is  wrong ; 
Oh,  happy  the  pilgrim  whose  knowledge  is  strong  ! 
What  truths  in  the  figure  of  this  idol  lie  ? 
For  the  chief  of  its  worshippers,  truly,  am  I  !  " 
The  face  of  the  old  Brahmin  glowed  with  delight ; 
He  was  pleased  and  said,  "  Oh,  thou  whose  statements 

are  right  ! 
Your  question  is  proper,  your  action  is  wise  — 
Whoever  seeks  truth  will  to  happiness  rise. 
Like  yourself,  too,  on  many  a  journey  I've  been, 
And  idols  not  knowing  themselves  I  have  seen, 
Save  this,  which  each  morning,  just  where  it  now  stands, 
To  the  great  God  of  Justice  upraises  its  hands  ! 
And  if  you  are  willing,  remain  the  night  here  ! 
And  to-morrow,  the  secret  to  you  will  be  clear." 
At  the  chief  Brahmin's  bidding  I  tarried  all  night ; 
In  the  well  of  misfortune,  like  Bizhan's 2  my  plight. 

1  Zend  and  Asta,  religious  books  of  the  Magi. 

2  Bizhan,  grandson  of  Rustem,  confined  in  a  well  by  Afrasiab  for 
being  caught  in  his  palace  in  company  with  his  daughter. 


334  Sa'di. 

The   night   seemed   as   long   as    the    last   Judgment 

Day; 
The  pagans,  unwashed,  round  me  feigning  to  pray. 
The  priests  very  carefully  water  did  shun ; 
Their  armpits  like  carrion  exposed  in  the  sun  ! 
Perhaps  a  great  sin  I  had  done,  long  before, 
That  I  on  that  night  so  much  punishment  bore. 
All  the  night  I  was  racked  in  this  prison  of  grief, 
With  one  hand  on  my  heart,  one  in  prayer  for  relief ; 
When  the  drummer,  with  suddenness,  beat  his  loud 

drum, 
And  the   cock  crowed   the   fate   of  the   Brahmin  to 

come. 
Unresisted,  the  black-coated  preacher,  the  night, 
Drew  forth  from  his  scabbard  the  sword  of  daylight. 
On  this  tinder,  the  morning  fire  happened  to  fall, 
And  the  world  in  a  moment  was  brilliant  to  all. 
You'd  have  said  that  all  over  the  country  of  Zang, l 
From  a  corner,  the  Tartars  had  suddenly  sprung  ! 
The  pagans  depraved,  with  unpurified  face, 
Came  from  door,  street,  and  plain  to  the  worshipping- 
place. 
The  city  and  lanes  were  of  people  bereft ; 
In  the  temple,  no  room  for  a  needle  was  left. 
I  was  troubled  from  rage  and  from  sleeplessness  dazed, 
When  the  idol  its  hands  upward,  suddenly,  raised. 
All  at  once,  from  the  people,  there  rose  such  a  shout, 
You'd   have  said  that  the  sea  in  a  rage  had  boiled 
out. 

l  Zang,  Zanzibar,  in  Africa. 


Bust  an.  335 

When  the  temple  became  from  the  multitude  free, 

The  Brahmin  all  smiles  gazed  intently  at  me  : 

"  I  am  sure  that  your  scruples  have  vanished,"  he  said, 

"Truth  has  made  itself  manifest,  falsehood  has  fled." 

When  I  saw  he  was  slave  to  an  ignorant  whim, 

And  that  fancies  absurd  were  established  in  him, 

Respecting  the  truth,  I  no  more  could  reveal, 

For  from  scoffers,  'tis  proper  the  truth  to  conceal. 

When  you  find  yourself  under  a  tyrant's  command, 

It  would  scarcely  be  manly  to  break  your  own  hand. 

I  wept  for  a  time,  that  he  might  be  deceived, 

And  said,  "  At  the  statement  I  made,  I  am  grieved  !  " 

At  my  weeping,  the  pagans'  hearts  merciful  proved  — 

Is  it  strange  that  a  stone  by  the  torrent  is  moved  ? 

In  attendance,  they  ran  to  me,  very  much  pleased ; 

And  in  doing  me  honor  my  hands  they  all  seized. 

Asking  pardon  I  went  to  the  image  of  bone  — 

In  a  chair  made  of  gold  on  a  teak-timber  throne  — 

A  kiss  to  the  hand  of  the  idol  I  gave, 

Saying,  "  Curse  it  and  every  idolatrous  slave  !  " 

A  pagan  I  was  for  a  little,  in  name ; 

In  discussing  the  Zend,  I  a  Brahmin  became  ! 

When  myself,  "one  of  trust,'"  in  the  temple  I  found, 

I  could  scarcely  from  joy  keep  myself  on  the  ground. 

I  fastened  the  door  of  the  temple  one  night, 
And,  scorpion-like,  ran  to  the  left  and  the  right. 
All  under  and  over  the  throne  I  then  pried, 
And  a  curtain  embroidered  with  gold  I  espied ; 
A  fire-temple  prelate  in  rear  of  the  screen, 
With  the  end  of  a  rope  in  his  hands,  could  be  seen. 


336  Sa'di. 

The  state  of  affairs  I  at  once  saw  aright  — 
Like  David x  when  steel  grew  like  wax  in  his  sight. 
For,  of  course,  he  has  only  the  rope  to  depress, 
When  the  idol  upraises  its  hands  for  redress  ! 
Ashamed  was  the  Brahmin  at  seeing  my  face  — 
For  to  have  any  secret  exposed  's  a  disgrace. 
He  bolted,  and  I  in  pursuit  of  him  fell, 
And  speedily  tumbled  him  into  a  well ; 
For  I  knew  that  the  Brahmin  escaping  alive, 
To  compass  my  death  would  incessantly  strive. 
And  were  I  despatched  he  would  happiness  feel, 
Lest,  living,  I  might  his  base  secret  reveal. 
When  you  know  of  the  business  a  villain  has  planned, 
Put  it  out  of  his  power,  when  he  falls  to  your  hand. 
For  if  to  that  blackguard  reprieve  you  should  give, 
He  will  not  desire  that  you  longer  should  live. 
When  at  service  he  places  his  head  at  your  gate, 
If  he  can,  he  will  surely  your  head  amputate  ! 
Your  feet,  in  the  track  of  a  cheat  do  not  place  ! 
If  you  do,  and  discover  him,  show  him  no  grace  ! 
I  despatched  the  impostor  with  stones,  without  dread, 
For  tales  are  not  told  by  a  man  when  he  's  dead. 
When  I  found  that  I  caused  a  disturbance  to  spread, 
I  abandoned  that  country  and  hastily  fled. 
If  a  fire  in  a  cane-brake  you  cause  to  rise, 
Look  out  for  the  tigers  therein,  if  you're  wise  ! 
The  young  of  a  man-biting  snake  do  not  slay  ! 
If  you  do,  in  the  same  dwelling-place  do  not  stay  ! 

1  David  was  supposed  to  be  able  to  make  iron  as  soft  as  wax  by 
his  touch. 


Bustan.  337 

When  you've  managed  a  hive,  full  of  bees,  to  excite, 
Run  away  from  the  spot !  or  you'll  suffer  their  spite. 
At  one  sharper  than  you,  don't  an  arrow  despatch  ! 
When  you've  done  it,  your  skirt1  in  your  teeth  you 

should  catch  ! 
No  better  advice  Sa'di's  pages  contain  ; 

"  When  a  wall's   undermined,  do   not   near  it  re- 
main ! " 
I  travelled  to  Sind,  after  that  Judgment  Day ; 
By  Yemen  and  Mecca  I  thence  took  my  way. 
From  the  whole  of  the  bitterness,  Fate  made  me  meet, 
My  mouth  till  to-day  has  not  shown  itself  sweet. 
By  the  aiding  of  Bu-Bakar-Sad's  fortune  fair  — 
Whose  like  not  a  mother  has  borne  nor  will  bear  — 
From  the  sky's  cruel  hardness,  for  justice  I  sought ; 
In  this  shadow  diffuser,  a  refuge  I  got. 
Like  a  slave,  for  the  empire  I  fervently  pray : 

"  O  God,  cause  this  shadow  forever  to  stay  !  " 
He  applied  not  the  salve  to  my  wound's  need  alone, 

But  becoming  the  bounty  and  favor  his  own. 
Meet  thanks  for  his  favors,  when  could  I  repeat? 
Even  if  in  his  service  my  head  changed  to  feet ! 

When  these  miseries  past  I  experienced  joy ; 
Yet  some  of  the  subjects  my  conscience  annoy. 
One  is,  when  the  hand  of  petition  and  praise, 
To  the  shrine  of  the  Knower  of  Secrets  I  raise, 
The  thoughts  of  that  puppet  of  China  arise, 

1  To  be  better  able  to  run  away  by  catching  up  the  skirt  in  the 
teeth.  It  is  a  common  custom  to  tuck  up  the  skirt  and  fasten  it  in 
the  girdle  round  the  loins. 


338  Sa'di. 

And  cover  with  dust  my  self- valuing  eyes ; 
I  know  that  the  hand  I  stretched  forth  to  the  shrine 
Was  not  lifted  by  any  exertion  of  mine  ! 
Men  of  sanctity  do  not  their  hands  upward  bring, 
But  the  powers  unseen  pull  the  end  of  the  string. 
Ope's  the  doors  of  devotion  and  well-doing,  still, 
Every  man  has  not  power  a  good  work  to  fulfil. 
This  same  is  a  bar ;  for  to  court  to  repair, 
Is  improper,  except  the  king's  order  you  bear. 
No  man  can  the  great  key  of  destiny  own, 
For  absolute  power  is  the  Maker's  alone. 
Hence,  oh  travelling  man  on  the  straight  path  Divine  ! 
The  favor  is  God  the  Creator's,  not  thine. 
Since,  unseen,  He  created  your  mind  pure  and  wise, 
From  your  nature  no  action  depraved  can  arise. 
The  same  who  has  poison  produced  in  the  snake, 
The  sweetness  produced  by  the  bee,  too,  did  make. 
When  He  wishes  to  change  to  a  desert  your  land, 
He  first  makes  the  people  distressed  at  your  hand ; 
And  should  His  compassion  upon  you  descend, 
To  the  people  through  you  He  will  comfort  extend. 
That  you  walk  the  right  road  do  not  boast,  I  advise  ! 
For  the  Fates  took  your  hand,  and  you  managed  to  rise. 
By  these  words  you  will  benefit  if  you  attend ; 
You  will  reach  pious  men  if  their  pathway  you  wend. 
You  will  get  a  good  place  if  the  Fates  are  your  guide ; 
On  the  table  of  honor  rich  fare  they'll  provide. 
And  yet  'tis  not  right  that  you  eat  all  alone, 
For  the  poor,  helpless  Dervish  some  thought  should 
be  shown. 


HAFIZ. 

During  the  golden  age  of  Persian  poetry  there  was  no 
poet  more  popular  than  Hafiz,  the  greatest  lyric  writer  of 
Persia.  The  exact  dates  of  his  birth  and  death  are 
unknown,  but  he  was  born  in  his  beloved  city  of  Shiraz, 
in  the  first  part  of  the  fourteenth  century,  and  died,  accord- 
ing to  the  inscription  or  chronogram  on  his  tomb,  in  13881 
a.d.  His  biographers  say  that  he  did  not  live  later  than 
1 39 1,  thus  making  him  an  exact  contemporary  of  Chaucer. 

Hafiz,  from  the  Arabic  word  for  memory,  was  his  poeti- 
cal name  and  signified  that  he  knew  by  heart  the  Koran, 
his  real  name  being  Shams-ud-Din  Mohammad,  which 
means  Son  of  Faith.  There  is  very  little  accurate  knowl- 
edge of  his  early  or  domestic  life,  but  there  is  a  tradition 
that  he  was  the  son  of  a  baker  in  Shiraz  ;  at  all  events  he 
seems  to  have  lived  a  life  of  self-imposed  poverty,  for  he 
regarded  it  as  necessary  to  genius. 

In  the  following  story  we  find  the  first  evidence  of  his^ 
gift  for  song.  His  uncle  began  a  poem  on  Sufism  and 
could  not  get  beyond  the  first  line.  Hafiz,  during  his 
uncle's  absence,  finished  the  verse,  and  when  this  was 
discovered,  his  uncle,  although  annoyed,  ordered  Hafiz  to 
finish  the  poem,  at  the  same  time  cursing  him  and  his 
works,  exclaiming,  "  They  shall  bring  the  curse  of  insanity 
on  all  who  read  them  ! "  and  some  people  believe  that  this 
curse  actually  clings  round  his  verses.  Indeed,  he  has 
been  compared  to  Anacreon  "with  his  maddening  spell,1' 
and  even  is  said  to  have  quaffed  the  cup  of  immortality. 
The  legend  is  this  :  — 

1  Sir  Gore  Ouseley's  statement. 
339 


340  Hafii. 

"  About  four  leagues  from  the  city  of  Shiraz  is  a  place 
called  Pir-i-sabz,  or  the  '  Green  Old  Man,1  and  a  popular 
superstition  prevailed  that  whoever  watched  there  forty 
nights  without  sleep  would  become  a  great  poet.  Hafiz, 
when  a  youth,  resolved  to  try  the  adventure ;  he  was  at 
this  time  in  love  with  a  beautiful  '  fair  one,'  whose  name 
of  Shakhi  Nebat,  expressed  a  '  branch  of  sugar  cane ; ' 
but  he  had  a  powerful  rival  in  the  Prince  of  Shiraz.  Like 
Ferhad,  the  lover  of  Shirin,  he  was  not  to  be  daunted  by 
the  rank  of  him  who  pretended  to  the  smiles  of  his  charm- 
ing favorite.  Every  morning  he  walked  before  the  house 
of  his  coy  mistress,  anxiously  watching  for  some  sign  of 
recognition  which  might  give  him  hope  ;  at  noon  he  rested, 
and  at  night  repaired  to  the  place  of  the  i  green  old 
man,'  and  there  took  up  his  watchful  station. 

"  This  he  continued  for  thirty-nine  nights,  and  on  the 
fortieth  morning  was  charmed  to  observe  that  his  mistress 
beckoned  to  him  from  the  balcony,  and  invited  him  to 
enter.  She  received  him  with  enthusiasm,  declaring  her 
preference  of  a  bright  genius  to  the  son  of  a  king.  On  the 
approach  of  night  he  hurried  away,  bent  on  finishing  the 
adventure.  Early  on  the  morning,  after  his  agitated 
fortieth  night,  the  young  poet  perceived  an  aged  man 
approaching.  He  could  not  see  from  whence  he  came, 
and  could  scarcely  define  his  figure,  which  was  wrapt  hi  a 
green  mantle ;  in  his  hand  he  bore  a  cup  containing  a 
crystal  liquor,  which  sparkled  and  foamed  as  if  it  would 
overleap  its  narrow  bounds.  The  aged  man  held  out  the 
vase  to  Hafiz,  who,  seizing  it  with  avidity,  drank  an  inspir- 
ing draught,  and  found  in  it  the  gift  of  immortal  poesy.1' 

At  one  time  Hafiz  became  a  teacher  of  the  Koran  in  a 
college  in  Baghdad,  and  here  the  poet  read  from  his  own 
verses,  the  fame  of  which  drew  great  numbers  of  pupils  to 
him.  Indeed  he  himself  says,  "  O  Hafiz  !  the  fame  of 
thine  enchanting  witchery  hath  reached  the  bounds  of 
Egypt  and  China,  and  the  extremities  of  Kai  and  Rum.1' 


Hafiz.  341 

On  one  occasion  he  started  to  visit  India  at  the  invita- 
tion of  the  Sultan  Mahmud  Shah  Ben  Meni,  but  fell  among 
robbers  and  was  stripped  of  everything.  He  was  rescued 
by  two  merchants  who  knew  of  his  fame.  In  their  com- 
pany he  embarked  for  India  at  Hormaz  on  the  Persian 
Gulf;  but  the  ship  was  wrecked  and  Hafiz,  escaping, 
returned  to  Shiraz.  Hafiz  wrote  during  turbulent  times. 
Shiraz,  which  he  seems  to  have  loved  no  less  than  Dante 
loved  Florence,  was  conquered  five  or  six  times  ;  kings 
came  and  went  and  the  bloody  drama  moved  on,  yet  there 
is  hardly  a  reference  to  it  in  his  poems.  His  first  patron, 
Abu  Ishak,  was  beheaded  in  front  of  the  ruins  of  Persep- 
olis,  a  tragedy  evidently  seen  by  the  poet.  In  1388  the 
great  Timur  1  (Tamerlane)  overran  ancient  Persia,  and,  it 
is  said,  emphasized  his  victory  by  a  tower  of  90,000  human 
heads.  And  this  terrible  conqueror  ordered  Hafiz  to  be 
brought  before  him  because  of  the  following  line  in  his 
famous  ode  :  2  — 

"  For  the  black  mole  on  thy  cheek,  I  would  give  the  cities  of 
Samarkand  and  Bokhara." 

"  Art  thou  the  man,1'  Timur  cried,  "  who  has  been  bold 
enough  to  offer  my  two  great  cities,  Samarkand  and  Bo- 
khara, for  the  black  mole  on  the  cheek  of  thy  mistress  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  undaunted  poet,  "and  by  such 
acts  of  generosity  have  I  been  reduced  to  my  present 
state  of  destitution,  and  compelled  to  solicit  your  assist- 
ance.1' This  reply  so  pleased  the  astonished  ruler  that  he 
dismissed  the  poet  with  a  princely  gift. 

Hafiz  was  married,  and  in  an  ode  laments  his  wife's 
death,3  as  he  does  that  also  of  an  unmarried  son. 4  Of  his 
wife  he  writes,  "  Then  said  my  heart,  I  will  rest  me  in  this 
city  which  is  illuminated  by  her  presence ;  already  her 
feet  were  bent  upon  a  longer  journey  and  my  poor  heart 

1  A  descendant  of  Genghis  Khan,  the  Mongol  warrior. 

2  See  page  346.  3  See  page  378. 
4  See  page  372. 


342  Hafi^. 

knew  it  not."  And  in  the  following  expression  of  his  love 
for  her  he  has  been  compared  to  Shakespeare  :  "  Open  my 
grave  when  I  am  dead,  and  thou  shalt  see  a  cloud  of  smoke 
rising  out  from  it ;  then  shalt  thou  know  that  the  fire  still 
burns  in  my  dead  heart  —  yea,  it  has  set  my  very  winding 
sheet  alight. " 1 

Unlike  Sa'di,  Hafiz,  with  one  or  two  unfortunate  excep- 
tions,2 could  not  be  persuaded  to  leave  Shiraz,  -of  which  he 
sings  :  — 

"  May  every  blessing  be  the  lot 
O  fair  Shiraz,  earth's  loveliest  spot ! 
O  Heaven  !  bid  Time  its  beauties  spare, 
Nor  print  his  wasteful  traces  there. 

"  Still  be  thou  blest  of  Him  that  gave 
Thy  stream,  sweet  Ruknabad,  whose  wave 
Can  every  human  ill  assuage, 
And  life  prolong  to  Chizer's  age. 

"  And  oh  !  the  gale  that  wings  its  way 
'Twixt  Jaffrabad  and  Moscalla, 
How  sweet  a  perfume  does  it  bear ! 
How  grateful  is  its  amber  air ! 

"  Ye  who  mysterious  joys  would  taste, 
Come  to  this  sacred  city  —  haste ; 
Its  saints,  its  sages,  seek  to  know, 
Whose  breasts  with  heavenly  rapture  glow. 

"  And  say,  sweet  gale  —  for  thou  canst  tell  — 
With  lovely  Laili  was  it  well, 
When  last  you  passed  the  maiden  by, 
Of  wayward  will  and  witching  eye  ? 

"  Why,  Hafiz,  when  you  feared  the  day 
That  tore  you  from  her  arms  away, 
Oh !  why  so  thankless  for  the  hours 
You  passed  in  Laili's  lovely  bowers  ?  " 

1  See  page  384,  Ode  XXXVI. 

2  See  page  356,  Ode  VIII. 


Hafii.  343 

When  Hafiz  died  in  1389  his  enemies  refused  his  body 
the  customary  religious  rites  of  burial,  because  of  his  fear- 
less writings,  and  his  early  manner  of  living,  which  scandal- 
ized the  orthodox.  But  the  matter  was  settled  by  drawing 
lots  from  his  own  works.  A  child  drew  a  slip  of  paper 
from  a  bowl,  containing  other  slips,  upon  which  was 
written :  — 

"  Withdraw  not  your  steps  from  the  obsequies  of  Hafiz, 
Though  immersed  in  sin  he  will  rise  into  Paradise." 

And  so  Hafiz  was  buried  in  consecrated  ground  in  Mos- 
calla  on  the  banks  of  the  Ruknabad,  about  two  miles  from 
Sa'di's  tomb.  Sixty  years  later  Sultan  Baber  erected  over 
his  grave  a  monument  of  white  marble.  On  the  oblong 
marble  slab  which  marks  the  poet's  grave  are  inscribed  two 
odes  from  his  Divan.  One  is  in  the  centre,  and  -the  other 
around  the  margin,  sculptured  in  beautiful  characters.1 

Hafiz's  Divan  has  been  consulted  just  as  j4  it  were  an 
oracle.  Kings  have  travelled  to  the  poet's  tomb  to  read 
their  fate  in  the  beautiful  volume  which  is  ke:pt  there,  and 
a  certain  formula  is  said  to  be  used.  The  questioner  first 
breathes  over  the  book,  and  says  :  — 

"  O  Hafiz  of  Shiraz,  impart 
Foreknowledge  to  my  anxious  hea. 

Then  with  closed  eyes  the  book  is  opened  at  random,  and 
the  first  couplet  he  sees  is  read  as  an  answer  to  his  ques- 
tion. At  Hafiz's  grave  are  sometimes  seen  a  merry 
carousing  party  who  look  upon  Hafiz  as  their  leader,  who, 
Emerson  says,  "  tears  off  his  turban  and  throws  it  at  the 
head  of  the  meddling  dervish,  and  throws  his  glass  after 
the  turban.1''  Again,  penitent  pilgrims  seek  his  grave  to 
beseech  this  Sufi  saint  to  intercede  for  them.  Assuredly 
he  does  "  float  luxuriously  between  Heaven  and  Earth, 
and  this  World  and  the  Next,  on  the  wings  of  a  poetical 
expression,  that  might  serve  indifferently  for  either."2 

1  See  page  364.  2  Fitzgerald. 


344  Hafii. 

Hafiz  left  no  complete  volume  of  his  works  ;  like  Shake- 
speare's, they  were  collected  after  his  death.  There  are 
five  hundred  and  seventy-three  ghazels  or  odes,  forty-two 
aphorisms,  seventy-nine  quatrains  and  several  kasidas  and 
other  forms.  The  principal  themes  of  his  odes  are  love, 
wine,  and  roses,  —  but  these  themes  all  have  a  secondary 
interpretation  and  a  moral  significance. 

Although  "  not  so  learned  as  Sa'di  or  so  scientific  as  Jami, 
he  is  the  most  natural  and  least  egotistical  poet  of  Persia.11  * 
"  Persian  of  the  Persians.11 2  Eastern  critics  say  of  him  that 
he  "  may  be  condemned  but  he  cannot  be  compared.11 

A  PERSIAN  SONG.3 

Sweet  maid,  if  thou  wouldst  charm  my  sight, 
And  bid  those  arms  my  neck  enfold, 

That  rosy  cheek,  that  lily  hand, 
Would  give  thy  poet  more  delight 
Than  all  Bokhara's  vaunted  gold, 

Than  all  the  gems  of  Samarkand. 

Boy,  W  yon  liquid  ruby 4  flow, 
And  bid  thy  pensive  heart  be  glad, 

VVhate'er  the  frowning  zealots  say ; 
Tell  them  their  Eden  cannot  show 
A  stream  so  clear  as  Ruknabad, 

A  bower  so  sweet  as  Moscalla. 

Oh  !  when  these  fair,  perfidious  maids, 
Whose  eyes  our  secret  haunts  infest, 

1  Calcutta  Review,  Vol.  26.  2  Fitzgerald. 

8  Sir  William  Jones's  celebrated  translation  of  the  first  ode.  He 
is  said  to  have  been  the  first  to  introduce  Hafiz  to  the  West. 

4  A  melted  ruby  is  a  common  expression  for  wine  in  Persian  poetry. 


A  Persian  Song.  345 

Their  dear  destructive  charms  display, 
Each  glance  my  tender  breast  invades, 
And  robs  my  wounded  soul  of  rest, 

As  Tartars  seize  their  destined  prey. 

In  vain  with  love  our  bosoms  glow ; 
Can  all  our  tears,  can  all  our  sighs 

New  lustre  to  those  charms  impart?  — 
Can  cheeks  where  living  roses  blow, 
Where  Nature  spreads  her  richest  dyes, 

Require  the  borrowed  gloss  of  art? 

Speak  not  of  fate  — ah  !  change  the  theme, 
And  talk  of  odors,  talk  of  wine  ; 

Talk  of  the  flowers,  that  round  us  bloom ; 
'Tis  all  a  cloud,  'tis  all  a  dream ; 
To  love  and  joy  thy  thoughts  confine, 

Nor  hope  to  pierce  the  sacred  gloom. 

Beauty  has  such  resistless  power, 
That  e'en  the  chaste  Egyptian  dame 1 

Sighed  for  the  blooming  Hebrew  boy ; 
For  her  how  fatal  was  the  hour, 
When  to  the  banks  of  Nilus  came 

A  youth  so  lovely  and  so  coy ! 2 

But  ah  !  sweet  maid,  my  counsel  hear 
(Youth  should  attend  when  those  advise 
Whom  long  experience  renders  sage)  ; 

-"zulaikha,  Potiphar's  wife.  2  JosePh- 


346  Hafii. 

While  music  charms  the  ravished  ear, 
While  sparkling  cups  delight  our  eyes, 
Be  gay  ;  and  scorn  the  frowns  of  age. 

What  cruel  answer  have  I  heard  ! 
And  yet,  by  heaven,  I  love  thee  still : 

Can  aught  be  cruel  from  thy  lip  ? 
Yet  say,  how  fell  that  bitter  word 
From  lips  which  streams  of  sweetness  fill, 

Which  naught  but  drops  of  honey  sip? 

Go  boldly  forth,  my  simple  lay, 
Whose  accents  flow  with  artless  ease, 

Like  Orient  pearls  at  random  strung ; 
Thy  notes  are  sweet,  the  damsels  say, 
And  oh  !  far  sweeter,  if  they  please 

The  nymph  for  whom  these  notes  are  sung. 

Ode    V 

i.  An  if  yon  Turk  of  Shiraz  land  this  heart  would  take 
to  hold  in  fee, 
Bokhara  town  and  Samarkand  to  that  black  mole 
my  dower  should  be. 

2.  Ho,    Saki,    pour    the    wine-flask    dry;    in    Eden's 
bowers  we  ne'er  shall  find 
Moscalla's  rosy  bed,  nor  streams  of  Ruknabad's  de- 
lightsome lea. 


1  Selections    from    the    Odes    of  Haftz   translated    by    W  'ter 
Leaf. 


Odes.  347 

3.  Alack,  these  saucy  Lulis,  dear  beguilers  that    the 

town  embroil, 
The  wantons  tear  the  heartstrings  as  the  Turks  their 
plunder-banquetry. 

4.  On  our  frail  love  the  Loved  One's  pure  perfection 

no  dependence  knows ; 
Can   unguent,  powder,  paint,  and  patch  embellish 
faces  fair,  pardie? 

5 .  Be  wine  and  minstrel  all  thy  theme ;  beware,  nor 

plumb  the  deeps  of  fate  ; 
For  none  hath  found,  nor  e'er  shall  find  by  wit,  that 
great  enigma's  key. 

6.  Of  that  fair  favor  Joseph  wore,  to  make  more  fair 

the  day,  we  know ; 
For  him  love  bade  Zulaikha  tear  apart  her  veil  of 
prudency. 

7.  Thy  words  were  hard,  yet  I  submit ;  forgive  thee 

God  !     Thy  words  were  good  ; 
The  tart  response  beseemeth  well  the  honeyed  ruby 
lips  of  thee. 

8.  Give  ear,  my  life  !  perpend  my  words ;   for   more 

dear  e'en  than  life  itself 
To  youth,  so  blest  of  Fortune,  speaks  the  sage  ad- 
vice of  ancientry. 

9.  The  ode  is  made,  the  pearls  are  strung ;  go,  Hafiz, 

sweetly  sing  thy  lay  ; 
With  jewels  from  the  Pleiad  crown  doth  Heaven 
engem  thy  minstrelsy. 


348  Hafii. 


Ode  II. 

i .  All  bounds  my  heart  is  breaking ;  friends,  haste  to 
my  salvation  ! 
Woe's  me  !     My  secret  hidden  cries  loud  for  proc- 
lamation. 

2.  Mid  reefs  my  bark  is  grounded  ;  blow  fair,  O  breeze 

of  mercy ; 
Mayhap  we  win  the  Friend  yet,  Love's  goal  of  navi- 
gation. 

3.  This  ten-day  smile  of  heaven  swift  passes  like  a  tale 

told! 
Be  gracious  while  thou  mayest,  brook  not  procras- 
tination. 

4.  That  glass  of  Alexander  naught  save  the  bowl  of 

wine  was ; 
See  all  Darius'  kingdom  spread  there  in  revelation. 

5.  Go  to,  thou  lord  of  power,  do  thanks  for  fortune's 

dower, 
Seek  out  the  poor  unfriended,  raise  up  the  lowly 
station. 

6.  All  peace  within  the  two  worlds,  two  words  alone 

assure  it, 
"  Tow'rd  lovers  loving-kindness,  tow'rd  foes  dissim- 
ulation." 


Odes.  349 

7.  Ringed  round  with  wine  and  roses,  sweet  sang  the 

bulbul  yestreen, 
"  Bring  quick  the  morning  goblet  \  friends,  watch 
in  expectation." 

8.  All  entry  men  forbid  me  inside  the  gate  of  virtue  ; 
So,  sir,  and  wilt  thou  scorn  me  ?    Go,  change  pre- 
destination ! 

9.  More  sweet  to  me  than  kisses,  more  soft  than  maid- 

en's cheeks  are, 
That  bitter  named  of  Sufi,  "  Dam  of  abomination." 

10.  When  comes  the  hour  of  sadness,  turn  thou  to  wine 

and  gladness ; 
Karuns  of  beggars  maketh  wine's  chemic  transmu- 
tation. 

11.  Wine-flecked  is  Hafiz'  cassock,  yet  not  of  choice 

he  dons  it ; 
Ah,  Shaikh  of  hem  unspotted,  hear  thou  my  excul- 
pation ! 


Ode  III. 

1.  Aflame  with  bloom  is  the  red  rose,  the  bulbul  drunk 
with  spring ; 
What  ho,  adorers  of  wine  !     Hear  the  call  to  mirth 
that  they  fling. 


350  Hafii. 

2.  The    cornerstone    of    repentance   that   seemed   a 

rock  firm-set 
Is  rent   and   driven   asunder   by  touch  of  glasses 
a-ring. 

3.  Fill  high  the  bowl  with  the  red  wine,  for  here  in 

Liberty  Hall 
The  sage  is  one  with  the  toper,  the  ploughman  e'en 
as  the  king. 

4.  From  out  this  Hostel  of  Two  Doors  the  signal  calls 

us  away, 
Alike  if  low  be  the  roof-tree  or  lofty  dome   up- 
spring. 

5.  We  conquer  only  through  anguish  the  resting-place 

of  delight ; 
To  life,  by  bond  of  Alast-vow,  the  long  Alas  must 
cling. 

6.  With  is  and  is  not  annoy  not  thy  heart ;  be  merry 

of  soul, 
For  is  not  is  but  the  last  end  of  every  perfect 
thing. 

7.  The  fame  of  Asaph,  the  wind-steed,  the   speech 

with  the  birds  of  the  air 
As  wind  have  passed ;  to  their   master  no   more 
avail  shall  they  bring. 

8.  No  pinion  heavenward  soaring  desire  \  the  arrow 

aloft 


Odes.  351 

Shall  sink  to  dust  in  the  end,  howsoe'er  it  leap  on 
the  wing. 

9.  What  thanks  and  praises,  O  Hafiz,  shall  yield  the 
tongue  of  thy  pen, 
That  all  the  songs  of  thy  singing  from  mouth   to 
mouth  men  sing  ! 

Ode  IV. 

1.  Returns  again  to  the  pleasance  the  rose,  alive  from 

the  dead  ; 
Before  her  feet  in  obeisance  is  bowed  the  violet's 
head. 

2.  The  earth  is  gemmed  as  the  skies  are,  the  buds  a 

zodiac  band, 
For  signs  in  happy  ascendant  and  sweet  conjunc- 
tion spread. 

3.  Now  kiss  the  cheek  of  the  Saki  to  sound  of  tabor 

and  pipe, 
To  voice  of  viol  and  harpstring  the  wine  of  dawn- 
tide  wed. 

4.  The  rose's  season  bereave  not  of  wine  and  music 

and  love, 
For  as  the  days  of  a  man's  life  her  little  week  is 
fled. 

5.  The   faith   of   old  Zoroaster  renews    the   garden 

again, 


352  Hafii. 

For  lo,  the  tulip  is  kindled  with   fire  of  Nimrod 
red. 

6.  The  earth  is  even  as  Eden,  this  hour  of   lily   and 

rose ; 
This  hour,  alas  !    Not  an  Eden's  eternal  dwelling- 
stead  ! 

7.  The  rose  with  Solomon  rides,  borne  aloft  on  wings 

of  the  wind ; 
The  bulbul's  anthem  at   dawn   like   the   voice   of 
David  is  shed. 

8.  Fill  high  the  bowl  to  our  lord's  name  Tmad-ud-Din 

Mahmud ; 
Behold  King  Solomon's  Asaph  in  him  incarnated. 

9.  Beyond  eternity's  bounds  stretch  the  gracious  shade 

of  his  might ; 
Beneath   that  shadow,  O  Hafiz,  be  thine  eternity 
sped. 

Ode  V. 

1.  For  the  garden  longs  my  heart  not,  when  thy  radi- 

ance it  discerneth ; 
As  a  cypress  rooted  resteth,  as  a  branded  tulip1 
burneth. 

2.  To  the  arch  of  arching  eyebrows  shall  my  head  no 

more  be  put  low, 

1  The  dark  marks  at  the  base  of  the  tulip  petals  typify  the  brand 
marks  with  which  the  flames  of  love  sear  the  heart. 


Odes.  353 

For  the  hermit-heart  of  passion  to  the  world  no 
longer  turneth. 

3.  For  the  hyacinth,  I  scorn  her,  that  she  dares  to 

match  thy  ringlets ; 
What  a  puny  worthless  black  thing,  what  an  impu- 
dence she  learneth  ! 

4.  In  the  wilderness  and  dark  night  whither  turn  the 

erring  footstep, 
But  to  where  thy  beauty  radiant  as  a  beacon  brightly 
burneth? 

5.  With  the  taper  meetly  weep  I  in  the  dreary  hour  of 

dawntide. 
For  alike  we  sit  consuming,  and  alike  the  Loved 
One  spurneth. 

6.  In  the  garden  walk  and  mark  how,  by  the  rose's 

throne,  the  tulip 
As  a  monarch's   boon  companion  his  effulgent  cup 
upturneth. 

7.  As  the  cloud  of  April  weep  I  to  behold  that  in  the 

pleasance 
Tis  the  nightingale  that  nesteth,  but  a  crow  the 

glory  earneth. 

8.  With  thy  eye  for  torch,  thy  love-lock  in  the  night 

my  heart  doth  waylay  — 
The  marauder  bold,  that  such  light  on  his  thieving 
naught  concerneth  ! 

9.  The  enduring  heart  of  Hafiz  but  the  lore  of  love 

desireth, 


354  Hafii. 

Hath   abjured   the   thought   of  splendor,    for    the 
garden  never  yearneth. 

Ode  VI. 

i .  Send  the  criers  round  the  market,  call  the  royst'rers' 
band  to  hear, 
Crying,  "  O   yes  !     All  ye  good  folk  through  the 
Loved  One's  realm,  give  ear. 

2.  "  Lost,  a  handmaid  !     Strayed  awhile  since  !    Lost, 

the  Vine's  wild  daughter,  lost ! 
Raise  the  hue  and  cry  to  seize  her  !     Danger  lurks 
where  she  is  near. 

3.  "  Round  her  head  she  wears  a  foam-crown ;  all  her 

garb  glows  ruby-hued ; 
Thief  of  wits  is  she ;  detain  her,  lest  ye  dare  not 
sleep  for  fear. 

4.  "  Whoso  brings  me  back  the  tart  maid,  take  for 

sweetmeat  all  my  soul  ! 
Though  the  deepest  hell  conceal  her,  go  ye  down, 
go  hale  her  here. 

5.  "  She's  a  wastrel,  she's  a  wanton,  shame  abandoned, 

rosy-red ; 
If  ye  find  her,  send  her  back  to  Hafiz,  Balladier." 

Ode  VII. 

1.  Come   back,  my  Saki,  come;   for  of  love-service 
fain  am  I, 
Fate's  suppliant,  athirst  to  be  bowed  neath  the  chain 
am  I. 


Odes.  355 

2.  Where  through  the  radiant  east  of  the  wine-bowl 

thy  glory  dawns, 
Rise,   light   my   path;  bewildered  in  life's   mazes 
vain  am  I. 

3.  What  though  the  surge  of  sin  be  about  me  to  whelm 

me  o'er? 
Love's  hand  shall  bear  me  up ;  his  elect,  purged  of 
stain,  am  I. 

4.  Flout  not  the  toper's  call  nor  his  ill  name,  O  man 

of  law; 
What  thing  soe'er  the  counsels  of  God  foreordain 
am  I. 

5.  Drink  wine  ;  nor  wealth  nor  will  shall  avail  man  the 

gift  of  love ; 
Heir  since  creation's  dawn  to  the  one  golden  gain 
am  I. 

6.  What   though  afar  I  dwell  in  the  flesh,  far  from 

peace  and  thee ; 
Natheless  in  heart  and  soul  in  thy  court  mid  the 
train  am  I. 

7.  I  who  from  land   and  home  never  yet  wandered 

forth  abroad, 
Fain,  but  to  see  thy  face,  of  the  wild  wave  and  plain 
am  I. 

8.  Stand  hills  and  seas  between  us  ;  arise,  Angel  Guard, 

to  aid ; 
Guide  thou  my  steps ;  a  weakling  aghast,  racked  of 
pain,  am  I. 


356  Hafii. 

9.  West  Wind,  if  ever  thou  breathe  of  my  love's  ring- 

let musky  sweet, 
West  Wind,  beware,  for  jealousy's  right  hand  insane 
am  I. 

10.  Hafiz  beneath  thy  footsteps  is  yearning  to  yield 

his  soul ; 
While  life  abides,  the  thrall  of  my  heart's  suzerain 
am  I. 


Ode  VIII. 

1.  When  as  my  wailing  is  heard  mid   the  stranger's 

evening  prayer, 
With  strange  lamenting  in  strange  ears  the  tale  of 
woe  I  declare. 

2.  At  thought  of  home  and  of  loved  ones  so  loud  I 

raise  my  complaint, 
The  tide  of  brine  overwhelms  all  the  ways  wherein 
men  fare. 

3.  My  friends'  abode  shall  be  mine,  not  the  strangers' 

outland  realm  ; 
Oh,  set  me  back,  my  Protector,  amid  my  comrades 
there. 

4.  My  Guide,  for  love  of  the  Lord,  help  and  lead,  that 

yet  once  more 
Along  the  street  of  the  wine-house  aloft  my  banner 
I  bear. 


Odes.  357 

5.  Tis  not  for  reason  to  count  up  my  years,  and  write 

me  old, 
For  like  a  child  with  a  child,  so  I  sport  in  love  with 
my  fair. 

6.  The  winds  of  west  and  of  north  know  my  heart, 

none  other  beyond  ; 
For  who,  save  only  the  wind,  comes  my  way,  my 
secret  to  share? 

7.  The  breathing  air  of  my  love's  home  to  me  is  water 

of  life ; 
Arise  and  waft  me,  O  West  Wind,  the  dust  of  Shiraz' 


8.  My  falling  tear  hath  bewrayed  me ;  yet  how  to  lay 

my  plaint? 
Mine  own  familiar  friend  'tis  hath  laid  my  secret 
bare. 

9.  Methought  I   heard  in  the  dawntide  the  lute  of 

Zuhra  sing, 
"  My  skill  was  taught  me  of  Hafiz,  the  sweet  beyond 
compare." 

Ode  IX. 

1.  Say,  where  is  rapture's  vision?     Eyes  on  the  Loved 
One  bending, 
More   high   than   kingly  splendor,  Love's  fane  as 
beadsman  tending. 


358  Hafii. 

2.  Light  'twere,  desire  to  sever  forth  from  the  soul,  but 

natheless 
Soul  friends  depart  asunder  —  there,  there  the  pain 
transcending  ! 

3.  Fain  in  the  garden  budlike  close-wrapped  were  I, 

thereafter 
Frail    reputation's    vestment    bloomlike    asunder 
rending ; 

4.  Now  like  the  zephyr  breathing  love  tales  in  roses' 

hearing, 
Now  from  the  yearning  bulbul  love's  myst'ry  appre- 
hending. 

5.  While  yet  the  hand  availeth,  sweet  lips  to  kiss  delay 

not ; 
Else  lip  and  hand  thou  bitest  too  late,  when  comes 
the  ending. 

6.  Waste   not    the   hour   of  friendship ;    outside  this 

House  of  Two  Doors 
Friends  soon  shall  part  asunder,  no  more  together 
wending. 

7.  Clean  out  of  mind  of  Sultan  Mansur  hath  Hafiz 

wandered  ; 
Lord,  bring  him  back  the  olden   kind   heart,  the 
poor  befriending. 

Ode'X. 

1.  Curled  is  the  hair  of  hyacinth,  jealous  to  match  thy 
hair,  for  thee ; 


Odes.  359 

If  but  thy  lips  do  sweetly  smile,  rose  doth  her  ves- 
ture tear  for  thee. 

2.  Pierce  not  thy  faithful  bulbul's  heart,  rose  of  the 

fragrant  breath,  my  rose  ; 
Hark  how  I  make  through  all  the  night,  all  in  the 
night,  my  prayer  for  thee. 

3.  I  that  of  old  was  sick  to  hear  even  the  sound  of 

angel  voice, 
Now  the  insensate  wordly  jeer,  chatter,  and  babble, 
bear  for  thee. 

4.  Worship  of  thee  hath  sealed  my  brow,  dust  of  thy 

door  my  Eden  now, 
Love  of  thy  cheek  my  life,  I  trow,  all  my  desire  is 
care  for  thee. 

5.  Cowl  of  the  monk  and  bowl  of  wine,  how  shall  the 

twain  by  man  be  wed? 
Yet  for  the  love  I  bear  to  thee,  these  to  unite  I  dare 
for  thee. 

6.  Lo,  in  the    beadsman's   tattered  sleeve  hidden   is 

wealth  beyond  a  king's ; 
Soon  shall  he  climb  the  throne,  who  dares  beads- 
man's attire  to  wear  for  thee. 

7.  Now  is  mine  eye  a  kindly  seat ;  there  is  thy  pic- 

ture's resting-place ; 
Yea  ;  'tis  a  seat  of  prayer,  my  king ;  be  it  not  empty 
e'er  for  thee. 


360  Hafii. 

8.  Like  to  a  garden  bower  thy  cheek,  where  is  the 
beauty-tide  of  spring 
Hafiz  the  sweet  of  tongue   doth  nest,  trilling  his 
music  there  for  thee. 

Ode  XI. 

i.  Man  of  Self,  lifted  up  with  endless  pride, 
We  forgive  thee — for  love  to  thee  is  denied. 

2.  Hover  not  round  the  raving  lovers'  laments  ; 
Take  thy  "  Reason  Supreme  "  for  goal  and  guide  S 

3.  What  of  Love's  drunken  frenzy  knows  that  brain 
That  the  grape's  earthly  juice  alone  hath  plied  ? 

4.  Get  a  Moon-love,  and  teach  thy  heart  to  strive, 
Though    thy  flame,  like  a  sun,  be    spread  world- 
wide. 

5.  'Tis  the  white  face,  the  anguish-burdened  sigh, 
Tell  the  secrets  the  heart  of  love  would  hide. 

6.  Let  the  bowl  clear  the  fumes  that  rack  thy  brain ; 
Hafiz,  drink  deep,  and  name  and  fame  be  defied. 

Ode  XII. 

1.  "  What  bounty  shall  Heaven  bestow?  Drink  wine; 
be  the  rose-leaf  sprent." 
So  rose  in  the  dawntide  sang ;  sing,  bulbul,  a  glad 
consent. 


Odes.  361 

2.  Bear   forth    to    the    lawn  our  throne;  there,  Saki 

and  loved  one  by, 
Press  lips  upon  lips  and  cheek,  quaff  wine  and  the 
rose-bower  scent. 

3.  Whose  heart  do  the  rosebud  lips  make  glad  with  a 

laugh  this  day? 
Why  quit  me,  O  rosebuds  pray  ?     Whereto  are  thy 
footsteps  bent? 

4.  Pace  hither,  O  myrtle  form;  give  thought  to  the 

roses'  realm ; 
Come  forth  that  the  cypress'  pride  take  lessons  in 
blandishment. 

5.  This  day  is  the  mart  filled  full;  thronged  buyers 

about  thee  press ; 
Why  tarry  to  take  thy  gain,  full  lightly  in  life's  road 
spent  ? 

6.  All  bare  to  the    wayward  winds  burns   beauty,  as 

tapers  burn ; 
Put  forth    to    the  use    thy  stock,  take    profit    of 
goods  well  lent. 

7.  That   ringlet,  a  hundredfold  more  sweet  than  the 

Tartar's  musk, 
Well  'twere,  did  the  perfume  breathe  yet  sweeter  for 
kind  intent. 

8.  Each  bird  with  a  song  came  down,  made  melody 

round  our  King ; 
Bulbul  with  a  ballad   came,  Hafiz  with  a   prayer 
content. 


362  Hafii. 


Ode  XIII. 

i.  Seize  the  hour,  for  time  flies  fast;  seize  the  hour 
for  yet  ye  may  ; 
Take  the  boon  of  life,  my  soul ;  take  it  now,  for  yet 
'tis  day. 

2.  Strive  to  live ;  from  Fortune's  hand  win  the  gift  so 

hard  bestowed  ; 
High  the  cost  of  Heaven's  grace ;  life  the  price  we 
needs  must  pay. 

3.  Hear  the  counsel  lovers  give ;  enter  in  the  gates  of 

joy; 

Shall  the  care  of  this  doomed  world  all  the  joy  of 
love  outweigh? 

4.  Thou  that  hast  the  garden's  charge,  when  from  out 

the  world  I  pass, 
Save  that  lovely  cypress-form,  plant  no  cypress  o'er 
my  clay. 

5.  Comes  the  sour  ascetic  nigh,  hush,  no  word  of  top- 

ing speak ; 
Save  the  leech  the  secret  knows,  shall  we  all  the 
pain  display? 

6.  As  thou  walk'st  along  thy  path,  blood  galore  thy 

eyelash  spills ; 
Hasty  steps  may  some  day  fall ;  fear  to  stumble, 
heed  thy  way  ! 


Odes.  363 

7.  'Twas  the  grace  of  One  Name  erst  dow'red  with 

might  Suliman's  seal ; 
In   that  Name,  O  honey-sweet,  all    the  night  for 
thee  we  pray. 

8.  Torn  away  my  Joseph  dear ;  mercy,  mercy,  breth- 

ren mine  ; 
All  the  woe  of  Canaan's  sire  once  again  my  woes 
portray. 

9.  Strayed  is  Hafiz ;  ah,  be  kind ;  gently  lead  the  lost 

one  back ; 
In   thy  straying  ringlet's  curl  make  a  home   for 
hearts  astray. 

Ode  XIV. 
MY  BIRD.1 

My  soul  is  as  a  sacred  bird,  the  Highest  Heaven  its 

nest : 
Fretting  within  the  body's  bars,  it  finds  on  earth  no 

rest. 

When  speeding  from  this  dusty  heap,  this  bird  of  mine 

shall  soar, 
'Twill  find  upon  yon  lofty  gate  the  nest  it  had  before. 

The  Sidrah 2  shall  receive  my  bird  when  it  has  winged 

its  way  : 
Know  on  the   Empyrean's  top  my  falcon's  foot  shall 

stay. 

1  Translations  by  Herman  Bicknell. 

2  "  The  Sidrah  "  —  the  tree  of  Paradise. 


364  Hafii- 

Over  the  ample  field  of  earth  is  Fortune's  shadow  cast, 
Where,  upon  wings  and  pennons  borne,  this  bird  of 
mine  has  passed. 

No  spot  in  the  two  worlds  it  owns  —  above  the  sphere 

its  goal : 
Its  body  from  the  quarry  is,  from  No-place  is  its  soul. 

'Tis  only  in  the  Glorious  World  my  bird  its  splendor 

shows ; 
The  rosy  bower  of  Paradise  its  daily  food  bestows. 

Mad  Hafiz,  while  the  Unity 
Thou  thus  proclaim'st  in  brief, 
Draw  thou  thy  unifying  pen 
Through  men  and  genii's  leaf.1 

Ode  XVII. 

That  day  of  friendship  when  we  met  —  Recall ; 
Recall  those  days  of  fond  regret, 

Recall. 

As  bitter  poison  grief  my  palate  sours  : 

The  sound  :  "  Be  it  sweet !  " 2  at  feasts  of  ours 

Recall. 

My  friends,  it  may  be,  have  forgotten  long ; 
But  I  a  thousand  times  that  throng 

Recall ; 

1  Recognize  no  existence  excepting  that  of  God.  Regarding 
men  and  genii  as  a  leaf,  or  two  pages,  erase  them  both.  Sudi 
doubts  if  Hafiz  composed  this  ode. 

2  "  Be  it  sweet!  "  an  expression  used  at  drinking  parties. 


o 


o 


-3 


23 


Odes  XV.  and  XVI.1 

a^  fii^-«i*.      9UO  pu^'puBq  uiuSjid  aqj  uiof  jgueaaaH  ^o0  ,f3//  .„ 

^&J^°AJ.  '     ='^d  oi  qBqS  9q»  -f^^S 

**  ,  V>*  °J  uoijOAap  aq  aoqDBid  Xqj  jaj  Jzubh  O  ^ 

3^V  Ml 

►n     O  O   THOU  v^ 

8      S"  WHO  ABIDEST  £  g  § 

3  2j  Er^.  although  a  m 

S-%%%  ALL  THINGS   PERISH! 

p^yg.      Where  doth  Thy  love's  glad  message  echo  for  my  .2  ^  Z  £ 

^"crP  o  rapt  soul  to  rise?  ^i  §  « 

re  ^  3  £     This  sacred  bird  from  the  world's  meshes  yearns  to  v  -^  ">  -^ 

3-  8  p  g"  its  goal  to  rise.  « fc  £~ 

•c  to  3*  g*      I  swear,  wilt  Thou  Thy  servant  name  me,  by  all  my  „  §  ~  2 

£  SJ.  ^  love  sublime,  Jg  S  "§s  '£ 

c  q"^       Higher  than  my  desire  of  lordship  o'er  space  and  .2 ^  >> ^ 

•„. n  o  time  to  rise.  a^  "2  =5 

3  ^5:  &.£?§* 

ffgp       Vouchsafe,  Lord,  from   Thy  cloud   of  guidance  to  ^  « £  M 

o  "  3  pour  on  me  Thy  rain,  x:      2 

**      a      Ere  Thou  command  me  as  an  atom  from   man's  H     &> 
domain  to  rise. 

&      >  3      c 

^      a       Bring  minstrels  and  the  wine-cup  with  thee,  or  at  my  o      o 

3*  «.  3  v:  tomb  ne'er  sit ;  -      £ 

~rf  2.  »       Permit  me  in  thy  perfume  dancing  from  the  grave's  -a^j"  ^  - 

o  ht.  2.  a  pit  to  rise.  §  .2  M  o 

S  ~  en  ,»      Though  I  am  old,  embrace  me  closely,  be  it  a  single  w  -a  £  <u 

»°£sf  night;  5^C« 

May  I,  made  young  by  Thy  caresses,  at  morn  have  <3  g  03 


S.f  to  3  miSht  to  rise ! 


o*n  30       Arouse  thee !  show  thy  lofty  stature,  idol  of  winning  ^  o^  £ 

mien ;  Q  .££  <u  ^ 

Enable  me,  as  soul-reft  Hafiz,  from  Nature's  scene  to  ,c  "3  £  ^ 

--  ~       rise!  *-ll« 

g      ^      To-day  am  I  of  life  possessed;    'tis  wholly  all  for  g^  J~ 

3      c  thy  Love :  q     > 

At  morn  by  the  Imams'  pure  souls  my  witness  there 
above  be  Thou ! 


spi 


^p^tbe  INSCRIPTION  ON  THE  SLAB  OF        <*£o*3? "%%* 

<£#**  HAFIZ'S  TOMB.  J<^0- 

1  Odes  inscribed  on  Hafiz's  tomb. 


Odes.  365 

And  now  while  fettered  by  misfortune's  chain, 
All  those  who  grateful  sought  my  gain 

Recall. 

Though  thousand  rivers  from  my  eyes  descend, 
I  Zindarud,  where  gard'ners  tend,1 

Recall ; 

And  crushed  by  sorrow  that  finds  no  relief, 
Those  who  brought  solace  to  my  grief 

Recall. 

No  more  from  Hafiz'  lips  shall  pass 
Those  who  once  kept  them,  I,  alas  ! 

Recall. 

Ode  XVIII. 

Plant  thou  the  tree  of  friendship  only;  so  shall  thy 
heart's  desire  bear  fruit : 

Uproot  thou  hatred's  plant  completely,  or  woes  un- 
numbered thence  may  shoot. 

Gray-headed  Hafiz  in  this  garden 
Prays  God  that  still  his  lot  may  be 
To  sit  upon  a  brooklet's  margin, 
And  there  caress  some  Cypress-tree. 

Ode  XIX. 

Far  better,  in  a  king,  one  hour  in  deeds  of  justice 

passed, 
Than  piety  and  works  austere  that   five-score   years 

should  last. 

1  Zindarud  is  the  river  at  Ispahan,  which  is  still  famed  for  its 
pleasant  gardens  and  palaces. 


366  Hafii. 

Ode  XX.1 

If  that  dear  musk-moled  Fair  undraped  draw  near, 
That  Moon  who  mid  all  beauties  finds  no  peer, 
Her  heart  is  seen  through  her  transparent  breast 
As  pebbles  glitter  under  water  clear. 

Ode  XXI.2 

I  said,  "  O  Queen  of  loveliness, 

Have  mercy  on  a  wretch  like  me  ! " 

She  answered,  "  Love  has  brought  distress 
To  many  a  wretch  like  thee  !  " 

I  said,  "Ah,  stay  !  and  list  awhile  —  " 
She  lightly  answered,  "  Pardon  me, 

The  Queen  of  Love  has  not  one  smile 
For  such  a  wretch  as  thee  ! 

"The  bright- eyed  one  who  lays  her  head 
To  sleep  on  silk  —  indifferent  she, 

Though  thorns  and  brambles  be  the  bed 
Of  such  a  wretch  as  thee  !  " 

Ah  !  what  a  shrine  for  love  has  he 
Whose  heart  is  fettered  in  thy  hair  ! 

Ah,  Mole  !  how  blest  to  dwell  like  thee  ! 
Upon  that  face  so  fair  ! 

Among  the  lilies  of  her  cheek, 

The  transient  blushes  come  and  go ; 

A  wind-tossed  rose-leaf  thus  might  streak 
The  jasmine's  breast  of  snow  ! 

1  Tetrastich.  2  Calcutta  Review  of  1871. 


Odes.  367 

I  said,  "  The  lover's  resting-place 
Is  in  the  black  night  of  your  hair; " 

She  turned  on  me  her  laughing  face 
And  smiled  at  my  despair. 

"  Ah,  Moon  of  mine  !  "  I  spake  again, 
"  Hide  not  that  rosy  cheek  from  me, 

Nor  plunge  my  spirit  cleft  with  pain 
In  utter  misery  !  " 

Ode  XXII.1 

I  have  felt  love's  fatal  pain 
Such  —  I  cannot  tell  again 
Absence  poisons  every  bliss 
Such  as  —  ask  not  what  it  is. 

I  have  roamed  the  world  around, 
And  at  last  a  treasure  found, 
One  without  a  blight  or  blame, 
One  whom  —  ask  me  not  to  name. 

Oh  !  her  feet  my  tears  bedew, 
Fast  they  fall,  nor  sweet  nor  few 
Oh  !  my  tears  impetuous  flow 
So  as  —  seek  not  how  to  know. 

Yester  night,  from  her  I  heard 
Many  a  pleasing  honeyed  word, 
Words  of  rapture,  but  I  pray  — 
Ask  me,  ask  me  not  to  say. 

1  Translated   from   Hafiz   by  the  eighteen  years   old    Derozio, 
Calcutta  Review,  September  2,  1827. 


368  Hafit. 

Wherefore  bite  my  lip  ?     Oh  !  say 
Did  my  tongue  my  heart  betray? 
Ruby  lips  I've  pressed,  'tis  true, 
Whose,  —  I  will  not  tell  to  you. 

Far  from  her  in  my  lone  cot 
Sad  has  been  my  hapless  lot ; 
I  have  felt,  alas  !  too  well 
Pangs  which  ask  me  not  to  tell. 

I  the  ways  of  Love  have  known, 
All  its  secrets  are  my  own,  — 
Shall  I  all  those  secrets  state? 
They're  what  —  I  can  ne'er  relate. 

Ode  XXIII.1 

A  flower-tinted  cheek,  the  flowery  close 

Of  the  fair  earth,  these  are  enough  for  me  — 

Enough  that  in  the  meadow  wanes  and  grows 

The  shadow  of  a  graceful  cypress  tree. 

I  am  no  lover  of  hypocrisy  ; 

Of  all  the  treasures  that  the  earth  can  boast, 

A  brimming  cup  of  wine  I  prize  the  most  — 

This  is  enough  for  me  ! 

To  them  that  here  renowned  for  virtue  live, 

A  heavenly  palace  is  the  meet  reward ; 

To  me,  the  drunkard  and  the  beggar,  give 

The  temple  of  the  grape  with  red  wine  stored  ! 

Beside  a  river  seat  thee  on  the  sward ; 

1  Poems  from  the  Divan  of  Hafiz,  translated  by  Gertrude  Low* 
thian  Bell. 


Odes.  369 

It  floweth  past  —  so  flows  thy  life  away, 
So  sweetly,  swiftly,  fleets  our  little  day  — 

Swift,  but  enough  for  me  ! 

Look  upon  all  the  gold  in  the  world's  mart, 
On  all  the  tears  the  world  hath  shed  in  vain ; 
Shall  they  not  satisfy  thy  craving  heart? 
I  have  enough  of  loss,  enough  of  gain  ; 
I  have  my  Love,  what  more  can  I  obtain? 
Mine  is  the  joy  of  her  companionship 
Whose  healing  lip  is  laid  upon  my  lip  — 

This  is  enough  for  me  ! 

I  pray  thee  send  not  forth  my  naked  soul 

From  its  poor  house  to  seek  for  Paradise ; 

Though  heaven  and  earth  before  me  God  unroll, 

Back  to  my  village  still  my  spirit  flies, 

And,  Hafiz,  at  the  door  of  Kismet  lies 

No  just  complaint  —  a  mind  like  water  clear, 

A  song  that  swells  and  dies  upon  the  ear, 

These  are  enough  for  thee  ! 

Ode  XXIV. 

Sleep  on  thine  eyes,  bright  as  narcissus  flowers, 

Falls  not  in  vain  ! 
And  not  in  vain  thy  hair's  soft  radiance  showers  — 

Ah,  not  in  vain  ! 

Before  the  milk  upon  thy  lips  was  dry, 

I  said  :  "  Lips  where  the  salt  of  wit  doth  lie, 


370  Hafiz. 

Sweets  shall  be  mingled  with  thy  mockery, 
And  not  in  vain  !  " 

Thy  mouth  the  fountain  where  Life's  waters  flow, 
A  dimpled  well  of  tears  is  set  below, 
And  death  lies  near  to  life  thy  lovers  know, 
But  know  in  vain  ! 

God  send  to  thee  great  length  of  happy  days  ! 
Lo,  not  for  his  own  life  thy  servant  prays ; 
Love's  dart  in  thy  bent  brows  the  Archer  lays, 
Nor  shoots  in  vain. 

Art  thou  with  grief  afflicted,  with  the  smart 
Of  absence,  and  is  bitter  toil  thy  part? 
Thy  lamentations  and  thy  tears,  oh  Heart, 
Are  not  in  vain  ! 

Last  night  the  wind  from  out  her  village  blew, 
And  wandered  all  the  garden  alleys  through, 
Oh  rose,  tearing  thy  bosom's  robe  in  two ; 
'Twas  not  in  vain  ! 

And  Hafiz,  though  thy  heart  within  thee  dies, 
Hiding  love's  agony  from  curious  eyes, 
Ah,  not  in  vain  thy  tears,  not  vain  thy  sighs, 
Not  all  in  vain  ! 

Ode  XXV. 

Oh  Cup-bearer,  set  my  glass  afire 

With  the  light  of  wine  !  oh  minstrel,  sing : 

The  word  fulfilleth  my  heart's  desire  ! 


Odes.  371 

Reflected  within  the  goblet's  ring 
I  see  the  glow  of  my  Love's  red  cheek, 
And  scant  of  wit,  ye  who  fail  to  seek 
The  pleasures  that  wine  alone  can  bring  ! 

Let  not  the  blandishments  be  checked 

That  slender  beauties  lavish  on  me, 

Until  in  the  grace  of  the  cypress  decked, 

My  love  shall  come  like  a  ruddy  pine  tree. 

He  cannot  perish  whose  heart  doth  hold 

The  life  love  wreathes  —  though  my  days  are  told, 

In  the  Book  of  the  World  lives  my  constancy. 

But  when  the  Day  of  Reckoning  is  here, 

I  fancy  little  will  be  the  gain 

That  accrues  to  the  Shaikh  for  his  lawful  cheer, 

Or  to  me  for  the  draught  forbidden  I  drain. 

The  drunken  eyes  of  my  comrades  shine, 

And  I  too,  stretching  my  hand  to  the  wine, 

On  the  neck  of  drunkenness  loosen  the  rein. 

Oh  wind,  if  thou  passest  the  garden  close 
Of  my  heart's  dear  master,  carry  for  me 
The  message  I  send  to  him,  wind  that  blows ! 
"  Why  hast  thou  thrust  from  thy  memory 
My  hapless  name?"  breathe  low  in  his  ear; 
"  Knowest  thou  not  that  the  day  is  near 
When  nor  thou  nor  any  shall  think  on  me  ?  " 

If  with  tears,  oh  Hafiz,  thine  eyes  are  wet, 
Scatter  them  round  thee  like  grain,  and  snare 
The  Bird  of  Joy  when  it  comes  to  thy  net. 


372  Hajf{. 

As  the  tulip  shrinks  from  the  cold  night  air, 
So  shrank  my  heart  and  quailed  in  the  shade ; 
Oh  Song-bird  Fortune,  the  toils  are  laid, 
When  shall  thy  bright  wings  lie  pinioned  there  ? 

The  heavens'  green  sea  and  the  bark  therein, 
The  slender  bark  of  the  crescent  moon, 
Are  lost  in  thy  bounty's  radiant  noon, 
Vizir  and  pilgrim,  Kawameddin  ! 

Ode  XXVI.1 

The  nightingale  with  drops  of  his  heart's  blood 
Had  nourished  the  red  rose,  then  came  a  wind, 
And  catching  at  the  boughs  in  envious  mood, 
A  hundred  thorns  about  his  heart  entwined. 
Like  to  the  parrot  crunching  sugar,  good 
Seemed  the  world  to  me  who  could  not  stay 
The  wind  of  Death  that  swept  my  hopes  away. 

Light  of  mine  eyes  and  harvest  of  my  heart, 
And  mine  at  least  in  changeless  memory  ! 
Ah,  when  he  found  it  easy  to  depart, 
He  left  the  harder  pilgrimage  to  me  ! 
Oh  Camel-driver,  though  the  cordage  start, 
For  God's  sake  help  me  lift  my  fallen  load, 
And  Pity  be  my  comrade  of  the  road  ! 

My  face  is  seamed  with  dust,  mine  eyes  are  wet. 
Of  dust  and  tears  the  turkois  firmament 

1  Written  on  his  son's  death. 


Odes.  373 

Kneadeth  the  bricks  for  joy's  abode  ;  and  yet  .  .  . 
Alas,  and  weeping  yet  I  make  lament ! 
Because  the  moon  her  jealous  glances  set 
Upon  the  bow-bent  eyebrows  of  my  moon, 
He  sought  a  lodging  in  the  grave  —  too  soon  ! 

I  had  not  castled,  and  the  time  is  gone. 
What  shall  I  play?     Upon  the  checkered  floor 
Of  Night  and  Day,  Death  won  the  game  —  forlorn 
And  careless  now,  Hafiz  can  lose  no  more. 

Ode  XXVII. 

Return  !  that  to  a  heart  wounded  full  sore 
Valiance  and  strength  may  enter  in  ;  return  ! 
And  Life  shall  pause  at  the  deserted  door, 
The  cold  dead  body  breathe  again  and  burn. 
Oh  come  !  and  touch  mine  eyes,  of  thy  sweet  grace, 
For  I  am  blind  to  all  but  to  thy  face. 
Open  the  gates  and  bid  me  see  once  more  ! 

Like  to  a  cruel  Ethiopian  band, 

Sorrow  despoiled  the  kingdom  of  my  heart  — 

Return  !  glad  Lord  of  Rome,  and  free  the  land ; 

Before  thine  arms  the  foe  shall  break  and  part. 

See  now,  I  hold  a  mirror  to  mine  eyes, 

And  naught  but  thy  reflection  therein  lies ; 

The  glass  speaks  truth  to  them  that  understand. 

Night  is  with  child,  hast  thou  not  heard  men  say? 
"  Night  is  with  child  !  what  will  she  bring  to  birth  ?  " 


374  Hafii. 

I  sit  and  ask  the  tears  when  thou'rt  away. 
Oh  come  !  and  when  the  nightingale  of  mirth 
Pipes  in  the  Spring-awakened  garden  ground, 
In  Hafiz'  heart  shall  ring  a  sweeter  sound, 
Diviner  nightingales  attune  their  lay. 

Ode  XXVIII. 

What  is  wrought  in  the  forge  of  the  living  and  life  — 
All  things  are  naught  !     Ho  !  fill  me  the  bowl, 
For  naught  is  the  gear  of  the  world  and  the  strife  ! 
One  passion  has  quickened  the  heart  and  the  soul, 
The  Beloved's  presence  alone  they  have  sought  — 
Love  at  least  exists  ;  yet  if  Love  were  not, 
Heart  and  soul  would  sink  to  the  common  lot  — 

All  things  are  naught ! 

Like  an  empty  cup  is  the  fate  of  each, 
That  each  must  fill  from  Life's  mighty  flood ; 
Naught  thy  toil,  though  to  Paradise  gate  thou  reach, 
If  Another  has  filled  up  thy  cup  with  blood ; 
Neither  shade  from  the  sweet-fruited  trees  could  be 

bought 
By  thy  praying  —  oh  Cypress  of  Truth,  dost  not  see 
That  Sidrah  and  Tuba  were  naught,  and  to  thee 

All  then  were  naught ! 

The  span  of  thy  life  is  as  five  little  days, 
Brief  hours  and  swift  in  this  halting-place ; 
Rest  softly,  ah  rest !  while  the  Shadow  delays, 
For  Time's  self  is  naught  and  the  dial's  face. 


Odes.  375 

On  the  lip  of  Oblivion  we  linger,  and  short 

Is  the  way  from  the  Lip  to  the  Mouth  where  we  pass  — 

While  the  moment  is  thine,  fill,  oh  Saki,  the  glass 

Ere  all  is  naught ! 

Consider  the  rose  that  breaks  into  flower, 
Neither  repines  though  she  fade  and  die  — 
The  powers  of  the  world  endure  for  an  hour, 
But  naught  shall  remain  of  their  majesty. 
Be  not  too  sure  of  your  crown,  you  who  thought 
That  virtue  was  easy  and  recompense  yours ; 
From  the  monastery  to  the  wine  tavern  doors 

The  way  is  naught  ! 

What  though  I,  too,  have  tasted  the  salt  of  my  tears, 

Though  I,  too,  have  burnt  in  the  fires  of  grief, 

Shall  I  cry  aloud  to  unheeding  ears  ? 

Mourn  and  be  silent !  naught  brings  relief. 

Thou,    Hafiz,    art   praised   for   the   songs   thou    hast 

wrought, 
But  bearing  a  stained  or  an  honored  name, 
The  lovers  of  wine  shall  make  light  of  thy  fame  — 

All  things  are  naught ! 

Ode  XXIX. 

Slaves  of  thy  shining  eyes  are  even  those 
That  diadems  of  might  and  empire  bear ; 
Drunk  with  the  wine  that  from  thy  red  lip  flows, 
Are  they  that  e'en  the  grape's  delight  forswear. 
Drift,  like  the  wind,  across  a  violet  bed, 


376  Hafii. 

Before  thy  many  lovers,  weeping  low, 
And  clad  like  violets  in  blue  robes  of  woe, 
Who  feel  thy  wind-blown  hair  and  bow  the  head. 

Thy  messenger  the  breath  of  dawn,  and  mine 
A  stream  of  tears,  since  lover  and  beloved 
Keep  not  their  secret ;  through  my  verses  shine, 
Though  other  lays  my  flower's  grace  have  proved 
And  countless  nightingales  have  sung  thy  praise. 
When  veiled  beneath  thy  curls  thou  passest,  see, 
To  right  and  leftward  those  that  welcome  thee 
Have  bartered  peace  and  rest  on  thee  to  gaze  ! 

But  thou  that  knowest  God  by  heart,  away  ! 
Wine-drunk,  love-drunk,  we  inherit  Paradise, 
His  mercy  is  for  sinners  ;  hence  and  pray 
Where  wine  thy  cheek  red  as  red  erghwan  dyes, 
And  leave  the  cell  to  faces  sinister. 
Oh  Khizr,  whose  happy  feet  bathed  in  life's  fount, 
Help  one  who  toils  afoot  —  the  horsemen  mount 
And  hasten  on  their  way ;  I  scarce  can  stir. 

Ah,  loose  me  not  !  ah,  set  not  Hafiz  free 

From  out  the  bondage  of  thy  gleaming  hair  ! 

Safe  only  those,  safe,  and  at  liberty, 

That  fast  enchained  in  thy  linked  ringlets  are. 

But  from  the  image  of  his  dusty  cheek 

Learn  this  from  Hafiz  :  proudest  heads  shall  bend, 

And  dwellers  on  the  threshold  of  a  friend 

Be  crowned  with  the  dust  that  crowns  the  meek. 


Odes.  $77 

Ode  XXX. 

Not  all  the  sum  of  earthly  happiness 
Is  worth  the  bowed  head  of  a  moment's  pain, 
And  if  I  sell  for  wine  my  dervish  dress, 
Worth  more  than  what  I  sell  is  what  I  gain  ! 
Land  where  my  Lady  dwells,  thou  holdest  me 
Enchained  ;  else  Fars  were  but  a  barren  soil, 
Not  worth  the  journey  over  land  and  sea, 

Not  worth  the  toil ! 

Down  in  the  quarter  where  they  sell  red  wine, 
My  holy  carpet  scarce  would  fetch  a  cup  — 
How  brave  a  pledge  of  piety  is  mine, 
Which  is  not  worth  a  goblet  foaming  up  ! 
Mine  enemy  heaped  scorn  on  me  and  said  : 
"  Forth  from  the  tavern  gate  !  "    Why  am  I  thrust 
From  off  the  threshold  ?  is  my  fallen  head 

Not  worth  the  dust  ? 

Wash  white  that  travel-stained  sad  robe  of  thine  ! 
Where  word  and  deed  alike  one  color  bear, 
The  grape's  fair  purple  garment  shall  outshine 
Thy  many-colored  rags  and  tattered  gear. 
Full  easy  seemed  the  sorrow  of  the  sea 
Lightened  by  hope  of  gain  —  hope  flew  too  fast ! 
A  hundred  pearls  were  poor  indemnity, 

Not  worth  the  blast. 

The  Sultan's  crown,  with  priceless  jewels  set, 
Encircles  fear  of  death  and  constant  dread ; 


378  Hafii. 

It  is  a  head-dress  much  desired  —  and  yet 
Art  sure  'tis  worth  the  danger  to  the  head? 
'Twere  best  for  thee  to  hide  thy  face  from  those 
That  long  for  thee  ;  the  Conqueror's  reward 
Is  never  worth  the  army's  long-drawn  woes, 

Worth  fire  and  sword. 

Ah,  seek  the  treasure  of  a  mind  at  rest 
And  store  it  in  the  treasury  of  Ease  ; 
Not  worth  a  loyal  heart,  a  tranquil  breast, 
Were  all  the  riches  of  thy  lands  and  seas  ! 
Ah,  scorn,  like  Hafiz,  the  delights  of  earth, 
Ask  not  one  grain  of  favor  from  the  base, 
Two  hundred  sacks  of  jewels  were  not  worth 

Thy  soul's  disgrace  ! 

Ode  XXXI.1 

My  lady,  that  did  change  this  house  of  mine 
Into  a  heaven  when  that  she  dwelt  therein, 
From  head  to  foot  an  angel's  grace  divine 
Enwrapped  her  ;  pure  she  was,  spotless  of  sin  ; 
Fair  as  the  moon  her  countenance,  and  wise ; 
Lords  of  the  kind  and  tender  glance,  her  eyes 
With  an  abounding  loveliness  did  shine. 

Then  said  my  heart :  Here  will  I  take  my  rest ! 
This  city  breathes  her  love  in  every  part. 
But  to  a  distant  bourne  was  she  addressed, 
Alas  !  he  knew  it  not,  alas,  poor  heart ! 
The  influence  of  some  cold  malignant  star 

1  Said  to  have  been  written  on  the  death  of  his  wife. 


Odes.  379 

Has  loosed  my  hand  that  held  her,  lone  and  far 
She  journeyeth  that  lay  upon  my  breast. 

Not  only  did  she  lift  my  bosom's  veil, 

Reveal  its  inmost  secret,  but  her  grace 

Drew  back  the  curtain  from  Heaven's  mansions  pale, 

And  gave  her  there  an  eternal  dwelling-place. 

The  flower-strewn  river  lip  and  meadows  fair, 

The  rose  herself  but  fleeting  treasures  were, 

Regret  and  Winter  follow  in  their  trail. 

Dear  were  the  days  which  perished  with  my  friend  — 

Ah,  what  is  left  of  life,  now  she  is  dead, 

All  wisdomless  and  profitless  I  spend  ! 

The  nightingale  his  own  life's  blood  doth  shed, 

When,  to  the  kisses  of  the  wind,  the  morn 

Unveils  the  rose's  splendor  —  with  his  torn 

And  jealous  breast  he  dyes  her  petals  red. 

Yet  pardon  her,  oh  Heart,  for  poor  wert  thou, 

A  humble  dervish  on  the  dusty  way ; 

Crowned  with  the  crown  of  empire  was  her  brow, 

And  in  the  realms  of  beauty  she  bore  sway. 

But  all  the  joy  that  Hafiz'  hand  might  hold, 

Lay  in  the  beads  that  morn  and  eve  he  told, 

Worn  with  God's  praise ;  and  see  !  he  holds  it  now. 

Ode  XXXII. 

Not  one  is  filled  with  madness  like  to  mine 
In  all  the  taverns  !  my  soiled  robe  lies  here, 
There  my  neglected  book,  both  pledged  for  wine. 


380  Hafii. 

With  dust  my  heart  is  thick,  that  should  be  clear, 
A  glass  to  mirror  forth  the  Great  King's  face  ; 
One  ray  of  light  from  out  Thy  dwelling-place 
To  pierce  my  night,  oh  God  !  and  draw  me  near. 

From  out  mine  eyes  unto  thy  garment's  hem 
A  river  flows  ;  perchance  my  cypress  tree 
Beside  that  stream  may  rear  her  lofty  stem, 
Watering  her  roots  with  tears.     Ah,  bring  to  me 
The  wine  vessel  !  since  my  Love's  cheek  is  hid, 
A  flood  of  grief  comes  from  my  heart  unbid, 
And  turns  mine  eyes  into  a  bitter  sea  ! 

Nay,  by  the  hand  that  sells  me  wine,  I  vow 
No  more  the  brimming  cup  shall  touch  my  lips, 
Until  my  mistress  with  her  radiant  brow 
Adorns  my  feast  —  until  Love's  secret  slips 
From  her,  as  from  the  candle's  tongue  of  flame, 
Though  I,  the  singed  moth,  for  very  shame, 
Dare  not  extol  Love's  light  without  eclipse. 

Red  wine  I  worship,  and  I  worship  her  !  — 
Speak  not  to  me  of  anything  beside, 
For  naught  but  these  on  earth  or  heaven  I  care. 
What  though  the  proud  narcissus  flowers  defied 
Thy  shining  eyes  to  prove  themselves  more  bright, 
Yet  heed  them  not  !  those  that  are  clear  of  sight 
Follow  not  them  to  whom  all  light's  denied. 

Before  the  tavern  door  a  Christian  sang 

To  sound  of  pipe  and  drum,  what  time  the  earth 


Odes.  381 

Awaited  the  white  dawn,  and  gayly  rang 
Upon  mine  ear  those  harbingers  of  mirth  : 
"  If  the  True  Faith  be  such  as  thou  dost  say, 
Alas  !  my  Hafiz,  that  this  sweet  To-day 
Should  bring  unknown  To-morrow  to  the  birth  !  " 

Ode  XXXIII. 

Hast  thou  forgotten  when  thy  stolen  glance 
Was  turned  to  me,  when  on  my  happy  face 
Clearly  thy  love  was  writ,  which  doth  enhance 
All  happiness?  or  when  my  sore  disgrace 
(Hast  thou  forgot?)   drew  from  thine  eyes  reproof, 
And  made  thee  hold  thy  sweet  red  lips  aloof, 
Dowered,  like  Jesus'  breath,  with  healing  grace?1 

Hast  thou  forgotten  how  the  glorious 

Swift  nights  flew  past,  the  cup  of  dawn  brimmed  high? 

My  love  and  I  alone,  God  favoring  us  ! 

And  when  she  like  a  waning  moon  did  lie, 

And  Sleep  had  drawn  his  coif  about  her  brow, 

Hast  thou  forgot  ?    Heaven's  crescent  moon  would  bow 

The  head,  and  in  her  service  pace  the  sky  ! 

Hast  thou  forgotten,  when  a  sojourner 
Within  the  tavern  gates  and  drunk  with  wine, 
I  found  Love's  passionate  wisdom  hidden  there, 
Which  in  the  mosque  none  even  now  divine? 
The  goblet's  carbuncle  (hast  thou  forgot?) 

1  According  to  Oriental  belief,  Jesus  Christ's  gift  of  healing  was 
due  to  a  miraculous  quality  in  His  breath. 


382  Hafiz. 

Laughed  out  aloud,  and  speech  flew  hot 
And  fast  between  thy  ruby  lips  and  mine  ! 

Hast  thou  forgotten  when  thy  cheek's  dear  torch 

Lighted  the  beacon  of  desire  in  me, 

And  when  my  heart,  like  foolish  moths  that  scorch 

Their  wings  and  yet  return,  turned  all  to  thee? 

Within  the  banquet-hall  of  Good  Repute 

(Hast  thou  forgot?)   the  wine's  self  pressed  my  suit, 

And  filled  the  morn  with  drunken  jollity  ! 

Hast  thou  forgotten  when  thou  laid'st  aright 
The  uncut  gems  of  Hafiz'  inmost  thought, 
And  side  by  side  thy  sweet  care  strung  the  bright 
Array  of  verse  on  verse  —  hast  thou  forgot  ? 

Ode  XXXIV. 

The  breath  of  Dawn's  musk-strewing  wind  shall  blow, 

The  ancient  world  shall  turn  to  youth  again, 

And  other  wines  from  out  Spring's  chalice  flow; 

Wine-red,  the  judas  tree  shall  set  before 

The  pure  white  jessamine  a  brimming  cup, 

And  wind-flowers  lift  their  scarlet  chalice  up 

For  the  star-pale  narcissus  to  adore. 

The  long-drawn  tyranny  of  grief  shall  pass, 
Parting  shall  end  in  meeting,  the  lament 
Of  the  sad  bird  that  sang  "  Alas,  alas  !  " 
Shall  reach  the  rose  in  her  red-curtained  tent. 
Forth  from  the  mosque  !  the  tavern  calls  to  me  ! 


Odes.  383 

Wouldst  hinder  us?     The  preacher's  homily 
Is  long,  but  life  will  soon  be  spent ! 

Ah,  foolish  Heart !  the  pleasures  of  To-day, 

If  thou  abandon,  will  To-morrow  stand 

Thy  surety  for  the  gold  thou'st  thrown  away  ? 

In  Sha'aban  the  troops  of  Grief  disband, 

And  crown  the  hours  with  wine's  red  coronet  — 

The  sun  of  merriment  ere  long  will  set, 

And  meagre  Ramazan  is  close  at  hand  ! 

Dear  is  the  rose  —  now,  now  her  sweets  proclaim, 
While  yet  the  purple  petals  blush  and  blow  : 
Hither  adown  the  path  of  Spring  she  came, 
And  by  the  path  of  Autumn  she  will  go. 
Now,  while  we  listen,  Minstrel,  tune  thy  lay  ! 
Thyself  hast  said  :  "  The  Present  steals  away ; 
The    Future    comes,    and    bringing — what?      Dost 
know?  " 

Summoned  by  thy  melody  did  Hafiz  rise 
Out  of  the  darkness  near  thy  lips  to  dwell ; 
Back  to  the  dark  again  his  pathway  lies  — 
Sing  out,  sing  clear,  and  singing  cry  :  Farewell ! 

Ode  XXXV. 

Last  night  I  dreamed  that  angels  stood  without 
The  tavern  door,  and  knocked  in  vain,  and  wept ; 
They  took  the  clay  of  Adam,  and,  methought, 
Moulded  a  cup  therewith  while  all  men  slept. 


384  Hafii. 

Oh  dwellers  in  the  halls  of  Chastity  ! 

You  brought  Love's  passionate  red  wine  to  me, 

Down  to  the  dust  I  am,  your  bright  feet  stepped. 

For  Heaven's  self  was  all  too  weak  to  bear 

The  burden  of  His  love  God  laid  on  it, 

He  turned  to  seek  a  messenger  elsewhere, 

And  in  the  Book  of  Fate  my  name  was  writ. 

Between  my  Lord  and  me  such  concord  lies 

As  makes  the  Houris  glad  in  Paradise, 

With  songs  of  praise  through  the  green  glades  they  flit. 

A  hundred  dreams  of  Fancy's  garnered  store 
Assail  me  —  Father  Adam  went  astray 
Tempted  by  one  poor  grain  of  corn  !     Wherefore 
Absolve  and  pardon  him  that  turns  away 
Though  the  soft  breath  of  Truth  reaches  his  ears, 
For  two-and-seventy  jangling  creeds  he  hears, 
And  loud-voiced  Fable  calls  him  ceaselessly. 

That,  that  is  not  the  flame  of  Love's  true  fire 
Which  makes  the  torchlight  shadows  dance  in  rings, 
But  where  the  radiance  draws  the  moth's  desire 
And  sends  him  forth  with  scorched  and  drooping  wings. 

Ode  XXXVI. 

I  cease  not  from  desire  till  my  desire 

Is  satisfied  ;  or  let  my  mouth  attain 

My  love's  red  mouth,  or  let  my  soul  expire, 

Sighed  from  those  lips  that  sought  her  lips  in  vain. 

Others  may  find  another  love  as  fair; 


Odes.  385 

Upon  her  threshold  I  have  laid  my  head, 
The  dust  shall  cover  me,  still  lying  there, 
When  from  my  body  life  and  love  have  fled. 

My  soul  is  on  my  lips  ready  to  fly, 
But  grief  beats  in  my  heart  and  will  not  cease, 
Because  not  once,  not  once  before  I  die, 
Will  her  sweet  lips  give  all  my  longing  peace. 
My  breath  is  narrowed  down  to  one  long  sigh 
For  a  red  mouth  that  burns  my  thoughts  like  fire ; 
When  will  that  mouth  draw  near  and  make  reply 
To  one  whose  life  is  straitened  with  desire? 

When  I  am  dead,  open  my  grave  and  see 
The  cloud  of  smoke  that  rises  round  thy  feet : 
In  my  dead  heart  the  fire  still  burns  for  thee ; 
Yea,  the  smoke  rises  from  my  winding-sheet ! 
Ah,  come,  Beloved  !  for  the  meadows  wait 
Thy  coming,  and  the  thorn  bears  flowers  instead 
Of  thorns,  the  cypress  fruit,  and  desolate 
Bare  winter  from  before  thy  steps  has  fled. 

Hoping  within  some  garden  ground  to  find 
A  red  rose  soft  and  sweet  as  thy  soft  cheek, 
Through  every  meadow  blows  the  western  wind, 
Through  every  garden  he  is  fain  to  seek. 
Reveal  thy  face  !  that  the  whole  world  may  be 
Bewildered  by  thy  radiant  loveliness ; 
The  cry  of  man  and  woman  comes  to  thee, 
Open  thy  lips  and  comfort  their  distress  ! 


386  Hafii. 

Each  curling  lock  of  thy  luxuriant  hair 

Breaks  into  barbed  hooks  to  catch  my  heart, 

My  broken  heart  is  wounded  everywhere 

With  countless  wounds  from  which  the  red  drops  start. 

Yet  when  sad  lovers  meet  and  tell  their  sighs, 

Not  without  praise  shall  Hafiz'  name  be  said, 

Not  without  tears,  in  those  pale  companies 

Where  joy  has  been  forgot  and  hope  has  fled. 

Ode  XXXVII. 

Cypress  and  Tulip  and  sweet  Eglantine, 
Oi  these  the  tale  from  lip  to  lip  is  sent ; 
Washed  by  three  cups,  oh  Saki,  of  thy  wine, 
My  song  shall  turn  upon  this  argument. 
Spring,  bride  of  all  the  meadows,  rises  up, 
Clothed  in  her  ripest  beauty  :  fill  the  cup  ! 
Of  Spring's  handmaidens  runs  this  song  of  mine. 

The  sugar-loving  birds  of  distant  Ind, 

Ex<  ept  a  Persian  sweetmeat  that  was  brought 

ro  fair  Bengal,  have  found  naught  to  their  mind. 

See  how  my  song,  that  in  one  night  was  wrought, 

Defies  the  limits  set  by  space  and  time  ! 

O'er  plains  and  mountain-tops  my  fearless  rhyme, 

Child  of  a  night,  its  year-long  road  shall  find. 

And  thou  whose  sense  is  dimmed  with  piety, 
Thou  too  shalt  learn  the  magic  of  her  eyes ; 
Forth  comes  the  caravan  of  sorcery 
When  from  those  gates  the  blue-veined  curtains  rise. 


Odes.  387 

And  when  she  walks  the  flowery  meadows  through, 
Upon  the  jasmine's  shamed  cheek  the  dew 
Gathers  like  sweat,  she  is  so  fair  to  see  ! 

Ah,  swerve  not  from  the  path  of  righteous). 

Though  the  world  lure  thee  !  like  a  wrinkled  crone, 

Hiding  beneath  her  robe  lasciviousne 

She  plunders  them  that  pause  and  heed  her  moan. 

From  Sinai  Moses  brings  thee  wealth  untold  ; 

Bow  not  thine  head  before  the  calf  of  gold 

Like  Samir,  following  after  wickedness. 

From  the  Shah's  garden  blows  the  wind  of  Spring, 

The  tulip  in  her  lifted  chalice  bears 

A  dewy  wine  of  Heaven's  rninist'ring  ; 

Until  Ghiyasuddin,  the  Sultan,  hears, 

Sing,  Hafiz,  of  thy  longing  for  his  face. 

The  breezes  whispering  round  thy  dwelling-place 

Shall  carry  thy  lament  unto  the  King. 


JAMI. 

The  glory  of  Persian  poetry  ends  with  the  great  mystic 
Nur  ud-Din  Abd  ur-Rahman,  better  known  as  Jami.  He 
took  his  takhallus,  or  poetical  name,  which  means  "  drink- 
ing cup*1  or  goblet,  from  Jam,  the  province  in  which  he 
was  born  in  1414  a.d. 

At  five  years  of  age  he  is  said  to  have  shown  his  unusual 
gifts  and  he  was  called  Nur-ud-Din,  the  "Light  of  Faith.1" 
In  later  years  he  received  the  title  of  Maulana.  k-  Our  Mas- 
ter:1- As  a  student  at  Herat  and  Samarkand  he  was  a  won- 
der to  his  classmates  and  an  enigma  to  his  professors.  The 
fame  of  his  learning  soon  travelled  to  the  most  remote  part 
of  Persia,  and  as  the  guest  of  the  Sultan  Abu  Said,  at 
Herat,  he  received  great  honors  from  the  most  distin- 
guished men  of  the  times.  He  became  an  ardent  student 
of  the  Sufi  doctrine  under  its  great  master,  Mohammed 
Saad  ud-Din  Kashghari.  According  to  Fitzgerald  Moham- 
med appeared  to  Jami  in  a  dream  and  thus  influenced  the 
poet  to  study  with  him.  The  solitude  which  the  Sufi  teach- 
ing demands  was  of  so  long  a  duration  with  Jami  that  when 
he  again  returned  to  the  world  he  seemed  almost  to  have 
lost  the  power  of  speech.  Although  early  fitted  to  teach  it, 
it  was  only  during  the  last  years  of  his  life  that  he  would 
take  his  master's  place  at  the  great  mosque  at  Herat,  where 
his  eloquence  brought  even  far-away  kings  to  his  feet. 
Like  all  True  Believers,  Jami  made  his  pilgrimage  to 
Mecca.  It  was  in  1472  a.d.,  when  he  was  about  sixty 
years  old.  He  visited  at  Baghdad  and  Damascus,  return- 
ing after  about  a  year's  absence  to  Herat,  where  he  died  at 
the  age  of  eighty-one  years. 

Characteristic  of  fche  poet  was  his  prayer  of:  "O  God  ! 
Dervish  let  me  live  and  Dervish  die,  and  in  the  company 
388 


Jami.  389 

of  the  Dervish  do  thou  quicken  me  to  life  again  ! "  Yet  in 
spite  of  this  sentiment  the  Sultan  Husein  had  an  elaborate 
funeral  for  this  poet,  and  he  was  followed  to  his  grave  by  a 
procession  of  all  the  celebrities  of  the  court.  A  noted  ora- 
tor delivered  the  funeral  oration,  which  was  composed  by 
his  friend,  Mir  Ali  Shir,  the  Vizir,  who  afterward  laid  the 
first  stone  of  "  Tarbet'i  Jami,"  the  monument  raised  to  the 
poet's  memory,  and  erected  in  one  of  the  principal  streets 
of  Herat. 

Jami's  wife  was  the  granddaughter  of  his  Sufi  teacher, 
and  all  his  four  sons  died  when  very  young.  For  the 
fourth  son  he  wrote  the  Beharistan,  or  Spring  Gar- 
den, an  imitation  of  the  eight  Gardens  of  Paradise,  a 
superb  copy  of  which  lies  now  in  an  English  library.  That 
Jami  ''combined  the  moral  tone  of  Sa'di  with  the  lofty 
aspiration  of  Jelalu-'d-Din-Rumi  and  the  graceful  ease  of 
Hafiz  with  the  deep  pathos  of  Nizami,11  is  a  tribute  he  evi- 
dently feels  is  not  undeserved,  as  he  says  of  himself,  "  As 
Poet,  I  have  resounded  through  the  World  :  Heaven  filled 
itself  with  my  Song,  and  the  Bride  of  Time  adorned  her 
Ears  and  Neck  with  the  Pearls  of  my  Verse,  whose  coming 
Caravan  the  Persian  Hafiz  and  Sa'di  came  forth  gladly  to 
salute,  and  the  Indian  Khosrau  and  Hasan  hailed  as  a 
Wonder  of  the  World." 

Jami  devoted  his  life  to  study  and  literature,  and  as  a 
result  left  behind  him,  according  to  one  authority, x  ninety- 
nine  books.  These  cover  a  variety  of  subjects,  including 
theology,  biography,  ethics,  history,  letters,  and  poetry. 
The  treasure  spent  in  decorating  the  transcriptions  of  his 
manuscripts  shows  how  his  countrymen  estimate  his  gen- 
ius. It  is  said  that  sixteen  artists  were  employed  upon  one 
manuscript  containing  but   134  pages.'2 

Jami's  Salavian  and  Absal  has  been  translated  by 
Edward  Fitzgerald,  and  was  the  first  Persian  poem  he 
ever  read.     He  calls  it  "almost  the  best  of  the  Persian 

1  Shir  Khan  Ludi.  2  Khorasan  in  Affliction. 


390  Jami. 

poems  I  have  read  or  heard  about."  But  among  all  Jami's 
celebrated  works,  Yusuf  and  Zulaikha,  remodelled  from 
Firdausi,  is  unquestionably  the  most  famous  and  considered 
the  finest  poem  in  the  Persian  language.  It  is  the  sixth  title 
in  his  exquisite  collection  of  poems  called  Haft  Aurang 
or  The  Seven  Thrones.  The  best  Persian  scholars  know 
its  finest  passages  by  heart,  and  in  India  it  is  read  in  all 
the  "independent  indigenous  schools "  where  Persian  is 
taught ;  it  is  really  the  Persian  Ovid.  A  superb  copy  of 
this  is  in  the  Oxford  Library.  The  esoteric  meaning  of  the 
poem  was  evidently  doubted  by  the  writer,  who  stated  that 
"  it  seems  to  have  been  written  for  the  express  purpose  of 
showing  how  an  unprincipled  woman  may  pursue  a  good 
man  for  a  series  of  years,  marry  him  at  last  almost  against 
his  will,  and  make  him  wish  himself  in  heaven  the  next  day." 

To  the  Persians  Yusuf  (Joseph)  stands  as  the  emblem 
of  divine  perfection,  and  Zulaikha  —  the  poet's  name  for 
Potiphar's  wife  —  shows  how  the  human  soul  attains  the 
love  for  the  highest  beauty  and  goodness,  only  when  it  has 
suffered  and  has,  like  Zulaikha,  been  purified  and  regener- 
ated. Such  is  the  deeper  meaning  of  this  dramatic  love 
poem  which  differs  in  many  details  from  the  scriptural 
story  of  the  young  Israelite. 

The  following  translation,  ends  with  the  betrothal  of 
Zulaikha  and  Yusuf.  In  the  original  it  contains  four 
thousand  couplets  in  which  we  find  the  "  Marriage  "  and 
"  Death  "  of  Yusuf,  then  the  death  of  Zulaikha,  and  Sir 
William  Jones  says  it  is  "  the  finest  poem  he  ever  read." 

YUSUF   AND   ZULAIKHA.1 

Prologue. 

Unfold,  O  God,  the  bud  of  hope  :  disclose 
From  Thine  eternal  Paradise  one  rose 

1  Translated  by  Ralph  T.  G.  Griffith. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  391 

Whose  breath  may  flood  my  brain  with  odor,  while 
The  bud's  leaf-liplets  make  my  garden '  smile. 

0  grant  that  I,  in  this  drear  world  of  woe, 
The  boundless  riches  of  Thy  grace  may  know. 
May  gratitude  to  Thee  my  thoughts  employ ; 
To  sing  Thy  praises  be  my  task  and  joy. 

Vouchsafe  a  prosperous  day  from  those  that  are 
Best  on  the  roll  of  Wisdom's  calendar. 
Send  forth  Thy  soldier  to  the  war,  and  teach 
His  lips  to  conquer  in  the  field  of  speech. 
Grant  that  my  tongue  may  weigh  the  pearls,  O  Lord, 
Which  Thy  dear  bounty  in  my  heart  has  stored  ; 
And  let  the  fragrance  Thou  hast  lent  my  muse 
Its  musky  breath  from  Kaf  to  Kaf 2  diffuse. 
Lips  sweet  as  sugar  on  my  pen  bestow, 
And  from  my  book  let  streams  of  odor  flow. 

In  this  world's  inn,  where  sweetest  songs  abound, 

1  hear  no  prelude  to  the  strain  I  sound. 

The  guests  have  quaffed  their  wine  and  passed  away  ; 

Their  cups  were  empty  and  they  would  not  stay. 

No  sage,  no  stripling —  not  a  hand  ere  mine  — ■ 

Has  held  this  goblet  of  poetic  wine. 

Rise,  Jami,  rise  :  thy  fear  behind  thee  cast, 

And,  be  it  clear  or  dull,  bring  forth  the  wine  thou  hast. 

1  That  is,  my  heart. 

2  From  east  to  west,  from  north  to  south.  Kaf  is  like  the  Loka- 
loka  of  the  Hindus,  the  king  of  mountains  which  encircles  the  flat 
earth. 


392  JamL 

Praise  of  the  Prophet. 

'In  separation  pine  the  souls  of  all : 
For  pity,  Prophet  sent  by  God,  we  call. 
Art  thou  not  he  who  pities  all,  and  how 
Canst  thou  be  distant  from  the  wretched  now?) 
O  dew-sprent  Tulip,  thou  hast  drunk  thy  fill : 
Awake,  Narcissus  !  wilt  thou  slumber  still? 
Show  from  the  screen  of  bliss  thy  head  ;  display 
That  brow  that  bids  the  dawn  of  life  be  gay. 
Turn  thou  our  night  of  woe  to  sun- bright  morn, 
And  let  thy  face  our  glorious  day  adorn. 
Loose  from  thy  head  thy  long  black  hair,  to  meet 
Like  shadows  falling  at  thy  cypress' 1  feet. 
Soft  skins  of  Taif 2  for  thy  sandals  take, 
And  of  our  heartstrings  fitting  latchets  make. 
Sages  before  thee  like  a  carpet  lie, 
And  fain  would  kiss  thy  foot  that  passes  by. 
Leave  for  the  sacred  court  thy  far  retreat, 
And  tread  on  lips  which  yearn  to  touch  those  feet. 
Raise  up  the  fathers ;  from  their  misery  free, 
And  comfort  those  who  give  their  hearts  to  thee. 
Though  o'er  our  heads  the  waves  of  sin  roll  high ; 
Though  by  thy  path  with  thirsty  lips  we  lie ; 
Thou  art  a  cloud  of  gentle  mercy  :  turn 
Thy  pitying  look  on  lips  that  thirst  and  burn. 
O  blest  are  they  who  turn  to  thee  with  eyes 

1  Cypress,  for  a  tall,  graceful  figure  in  man  or  woman,  is  one  of  the 
commonplaces  of  Persian  poetry. 

2  A  town  not  far  from  Mecca. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  393 

Dimmed  with  thy  pathway's  dust  and  strengthened  rise. 

We  sought  the  mosque  thanksgivings  to  renew ; 

Our  souls  like  moths  about  thy  splendor  flew. 

Each  heart  a  lattice  open  to  the  day, 

We  sported  in  thy  garden  and  were  gay. 

On  sacred  thresholds  of  thy  courts  we  wept 

Tears  from  the  clouds  of  eyes  that  never  slept. 

We  swept  the  dust  that  on  the  pavement  lay, 

And  cleared  the  thistles  with  our  hands  away. 

Of  that,  a  salve  to  purge  our  sight  we  made ; 

Of  these,  a  plaster  on  our  hearts  we  laid. 

Near  to  the  pulpit  in  thy  mosque  we  drew, 

And  laid  beneath  it  cheeks  like  gold  in  hue ; 

Moved  from  the  arch  to  offer  prayer,  and  wept 

WTith  tears  of  blood  where'er  thy  foot  has  stepped. 

Erect  we  stood  at  every  pillar's  base, 

And  mid  the  upright  prayed  for  blissful  place. 

Our  souls  yearned  for  thee  :  warmed  with  sweet  desire, 

We  fed  each  flambeau  from  our  holy  fire. 

Our  souls,  thank  God,  are  in  that  holy  spot, 

Though  with  their  dust  our  bodies  strew  it  not. 

Helpless  are  we ;  our  own  wild  aims  we  seek  : 
O  aid  the  helpless  and  forgive  the  weak. 
Do  thou  with  loving  hand  our  steps  sustain, 
Or  all  our  labor,  all  our  strength  is  vain. 
Fate  drives  us  wandering  from  the  path  astray  : 
To  God  our  guide,  to  God  for  light  we  pray. 
May  His  great  mercy  keep  our  lives  secure, 
And  in  the  path  of  faith  our  steps  assure. 
When  comes  that  day  that  wakes  the  dead  at  last, 


394  Jamu 

Let  not  our  honor  to  the  flames  be  cast. 

Still  may  He  grant,  though  we  have  wandered  thus, 

Free  leave  to  thee  to  intercede  for  us. 

Tis  thine  with  downward  head,  as  suits  the  mace,1 

To  urge  the  ball  through  intercession's  space. 

And  through  thy  aid  may  Jami's  work  be  found  — 

Though  some  may  scorn  it  —  with  completion  crowned. 

Beauty. 

Void  lay  the  world,  in  nothingness  concealed, 

Without  a  trace  of  light  or  life  revealed, 

Save  one  existence  which  no  second  knew  — 

Unknown  the  pleasant  words  of  We  and  You. 

Then  Beauty  shone,  from  stranger  glances  free, 

Seen  of  herself,  with  naught  beside  to  see, 

With  garments  pure  of  stain,  the  fairest  flower 

Of  virgin  loveliness  in  bridal  bower. 

No  combing  hand  had  smoothed  a  flowing  tress, 

No  mirror  shown  her  eyes  their  loveliness. 

No  surma2  dust  those  cloudless  orbs  had  known, 

To  the  bright  rose  her  cheek  no  bulbul  flown. 

No  heightening  hand  had  decked  the  rose  with  green, 

No  patch3  or  spot  upon  that  cheek  was  seen. 

No  zephyr  from  her  brow  had  filched  a  hair, 

No  eye  in  thought  had  seen  the  splendor  there. 

Her  witching  snares  in  solitude  she  laid, 

1  An  allusion  to  the  game  of  chugan,  the  modern  polo. 

2  Collyrium  or  antimony,  applied  under  the  eyelid. 

3  Small  black  "  beauty  spots  "  were  used  by  Persian,  as  formerly 
by  English  ladies. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  395 

And  love's  sweet  game  without  a  partner  played. 

But  when  bright  Beauty  reigns  and  knows  her  power, 
She  springs  indignant  from  her  curtained  bower. 
She  scorns  seclusion  and  eludes  the  guard, 
And  from  the  window  looks  if  doors  be  barred. 
See  how  the  tulip  on  the  mountain  grown, 
Soon  as  the  breath  of  genial  Spring  has  blown, 
Bursts  from  the  rock,  impatient  to  display 
Her  nascent  beauty  to  the  eye  of  day. 

When  sudden  to  thy  soul  reflection  brings 
The  precious  meaning  of  mysterious  things, 
Thou  canst  not  drive  the  thought  from  out  thy  brain ; 
Speak,  hear  thou  must,  for  silence  is  such  pain. 
So  Beauty  ne'er  will  quit  the  urgent  claim 
Whose  motive  first  from  heavenly  beauty  came, 
When  from  her  blessed  bower  she  fondly  strayed, 
And  to  the  world  and  man  her  charms  displayed. 

In  every  mirror  then  her  face  was  shown, 
Her  praise  in  every  place  was  heard  and  known. 
Touched  by  her  light,  the  hearts  of  angels  burned, 
And,  like  the  circling  spheres,  their  heads  were  turned, 
While  saintly  bands,  whom  purest  motives  stir, 
Joined  in  loud  praises  at  the  sight  of  her, 
And  those  who  bathe  them  in  the  ocean  sky 
Cried  out  enraptured,  "  Laud  to  God  on  high  !  " 

Rays  of  her  splendor  lit  the  rose's  breast 
And  stirred  the  bulbul's  heart  with  sweet  unrest. 
From  her  bright  glow  its  cheek  the  flambeau  fired, 
And  myriad  moths  around  the  flame  expired. 
Her  glory  lent  the  very  sun  the  ray 


396  Jami. 

Which  wakes  the  lotus  on  the  flood  to-day. 
Her  loveliness  made  Laili's  l  face  look  fair 
To  Majnun,  fettered  by  her  every  hair. 
She  opened  Shirin's  sugared  lips,  and  stole 
From  Parviz'  breast  and  brave  Farhad's  the  soul. 
Through  her  his  head  the  Moon  of  Canaan 2  raised, 
And  fond  Zulaikha  perished  as  she  gazed. 

Yes,  though  she  shrinks  from  earthly  lovers'  call, 
Eternal  Beauty  is  the  queen  of  all ; 
In  every  curtained  bovver  the  screen  she  holds, 
About  each  captured  heart  her. bonds  enfolds. 
Through  her  sweet  love  the  heart  its  life  retains, 
The  soul  through  love  of  her  its  object  gains. 
The  heart  which  maidens'  gentle  witcheries  stir 
Is,  though  unconscious,  fired  with  love  of  her. 
Refrain  from  idle  speech  ;  mistake  no  more  : 
She  brings  her  chains  and  we,  her  slaves,  adore. 
Fair  and  approved  of  Love,  thou  still  must  own 
That  gift  of  beauty  comes  from  her  alone. 
Thou  art  concealed  :  she  meets  all  lifted  eyes ; 
Thou  art  the  mirror  which  she  beautifies. 
She  is  that  mirror,  if  we  closely  view 
The  truth  —  the  treasure  and  the  treasury  too. 

But  thou  and  I  —  our  serious  work  is  naught ; 
We  waste  our  days  unmoved  by  earnest  thought. 
Cease,  or  my  task  will  never  end,  for  her 
Sweet  beauties  lack  a  meet  interpreter. 

1  Laili  and  Majnun,  and  Shirin,  Parviz,  and  Farhad,  are  typical 
lovers,  celebrated  and  frequently  alluded  to  in  Persian  poetry. 

2  Yusuf. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaihha.  397 

Then  let  us  still  the  slaves  of  love  remain, 
For  without  love  we  live  in  vain,  in  vain. 


Love. 

^  No  heart  is  that  which  love  ne'er  wounded  :  they 
Who  know  not  lovers'  pangs  are  soulless  clay. 
Turn  from  the  world,  O  turn  thy  wandering  feet ; 
Come  to  the  world  of  love  and  find  it  sweet. 

Heaven's  giddy  round  from  craze  of  love  was  caught ; 
From  love's  disputes  the  world  with  strife  is  fraught. 
Love's  slave  be  thou  if  thou  would  fain  be  free  : 
Welcome  love's  pangs,  and  happy  shalt  thou  be. 
From  wine  of  love  came  joy  and  generous  heat : 
From  meaner  cups  flow  sorrow  and  deceit. 
Love's  sweet,  soft  memories  youth  itself  restore  : 
The  tale  of  love  gives  fame  for  evermore. 
If  Majnun  ne'er  the  cup  of  love  had  drained, 
High  fame  in  heaven  and  earth  he  ne'er  had  gained. 
A  thousand  sages,  deep  in  wisdom's  lore, 
Untaught  of  love,  died,  and  are  known  no  more  : 
Without  a  name  or  trace  in  death  they  sank, 
And  in  the  book  of  Time  their  name  is  blank. 

The  groves  are  gay  with  many  a  lovely  bird  : 
Our  lips  are  silent  and  their  praise  unheard ; 
But  when  the  theme  is  love's  delicious  tale, 
The  moth  is  lauded  and  the  nightingale. 
What  though  a  hundred  arts  to  thee  be  known : 
Freedom  from  self  is  gained  through  love  alone. 
To  worldly  love  thy  youthful  thoughts  incline, 


398  Jami. 

For  earthly  love  will  lead  to  love  divine.j 

First  with  the  Alphabet  thy  task  begin, 

Then  take  the  Word  of  God  and  read  therein. 

^Once  to  his  master  a  disciple  cried  :  — 

"  To  wisdom's  pleasant  path  be  thou  my  guide." 

"  Hast  thou  ne'er  loved  ?  "  the  master  answered  ;  "learn 

The  ways  of  love  and  then  to  me  return." 

Drink  deep  of  earthly  love,  that  so  thy  lip 

May  learn  the  wine  of  holier  love  to  sip. 

But  let  not  form  too  long  thy  soul  entrance ; 

Pass  o'er  the  bridge  :  with  rapid  feet  advance. 

If  thou  wouldst  rest,  thine  ordered  journey  sped, 

Forbear  to  linger  at  the  bridge's  head. 

Thank  God  that  ever  from  mine  early  days 
My  steps  have  been  in  love's  delightful  ways. 
Love  stood  beside  me  when  my  life  was  new, 
And  from  my  mother's  breast  love's  milk  I  drew. 
White  as  that  milk  are  now  my  hairs,  but  still 
Sweet  thoughts  of  love  mine  aged  bosom  thrill. 
Still  in  my  heart  the  youthful  warmth  I  feel, 
While  in  my  ear  reechoes  Love's  appeal :  — 

"  In  love,  O  Jami,  have  thy  days  been  passed  : 
Die  in  that  love  gay-hearted  to  the  last. 
Some  tale  of  love's  adventure,  that  may  win 
Thy  name  remembrance  in  the  world,  begin  : 
Some  picture  with  thy  finest  pen  assay, 
Which  still  may  live  when  thou  art  gone  away." 

I  heard  entranced  :  my  spirit  rushed  to  meet 
Love's  welcome  order,  for  the  voice  was  sweet ; 
With  gladsome  heart  the  clear  command  obeyed, 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikba.  399 

And  straight  the  magic  of  new  spells  essayed. 
Now  if  kind  Heaven  will  bless  and  aid  the  task, 
And  lade  my  palm  tree  with  the  fruit  I  ask, 
I  from  this  glowing  heart  will  pour  a  song 
To  melt  the  tender  and  to  move  the  strong ; 
Veil  the  blue  vault  of  heaven  with -cloud  of  sighs, 
And  with  wild  weeping  dim  its  starry  eyes. 

Yusuf. 

In  this  orchestra  full  of  vain  deceit 

The  drum  of  Being,  each  in  turn,  we  beat. 

Each  morning  brings  new  truth  to  light  and  fame, 

And  on  the  world  falls  lustre  from  a  name. 

If  in  one  constant  course  the  ages  rolled, 

Full  many  a  secret  would  remain  untold. 

If  the  sun's  splendor  never  died  away, 

Ne'er  would  the  market  of  the  stars  be  gay. 

If  in  our  gardens  endless  frost  were  king, 

No  rose  would  blossom  at  the  kiss  of  Spring. 

When  Adam's  service  in  the  temple  ceased, 
Seth  took  his  station  as  presiding  priest. 
He  passed  away,  and  Idris  l  next  began 
In  this  sad  world  to  preach  pure  love  to  man. 
When  he  was  called  away  to  read  in  heaven, 
To  Noah's  watchful  care  our  faith  was  given. 
When  Noah  sank  beneath  death's  whelming  wave, 
To  Allah's  friend  2  the  door  admittance  gave. 

1  Enoch.     Idris  is  derived  from  darasa,  "he  read,"  and  the  fol- 
lowing line  contains  a  play  on  the  word. 

2  Abraham. 


400  Jami. 

When  heavenly  mansions  claimed  him  for  a  guest, 

Isaac  the  treasure  which  he  left  possessed. 

When  Isaac  wearied  of  the  world  and  died, 

The  voice  of  Jacob  was  religion's  guide. 

He  lived  and  prospered  :  planted  by  his  hand, 

His  banner  waved  o'er  Shain l  and  Canaan's  land, 

Wherein  he  made  his  dwelling.     Rich  was  he 

In  patriarchal  wealth  and  progeny ; 

And  sheep  and  rams  cropped  on  his  hills  their  food 

Like  ants  and  locusts  for  their  multitude. 

Twelve  sons  were  his.     Among  them  Yusuf  won 

The  father's  heart,  his  best  beloved  son, 

The  darling  of  his  age.     The  happy  mother 

Bore  him  the  heavenly  moon's  terrestrial  brother. 

In  the  heart's  garden  a  fair  plant  was  reared ; 

A  bright  young  moon  in  the  soul's  heaven  appeared ; 

In  Abraham's  rose-bed  a  sweet  blossom,  bright 

In  garb  of  tender  beauty,  sprang  to  light ; 

In  the  House  of  Isaac  there  rose  a  star 

Whose  splendor  streamed  through  the  sky  afar ; 

In  the  garden  of  Jacob  a  tulip  grew, 

The  balm  of  his  heart  and  its  sorrow  too  : 

A  fawn  of  the  sweetest  odor,  that  made 

Cathay 2  envy  the  fields  where  his  young  feet  strayed. 

The  mother,  while  earth  was  her  place  of  rest, 
Dewed  the  babe's  sweet  lips  from  her  loving  breast. 
When  two  glad  years  she  had  nursed  her  son, 
Time  poisoned  her  food  and  her  course  was  run. 

i  Syria. 

2  Khutan  or  Chinese  Tartary,  famous  for  its  musk-deer. 


Yusnf  and  Zulaikba.  401 

That  pearl  from  the  ocean  of  grace  was  left 

An  orphan  in  tears,  of  her  love  bereft. 

The  father  pitied  the  babe.     The  fair 

Young  pearl  he  gave  to  his  sister's  care ; 

And  her  heart's  dear  nursling,  a  bird  endued 

With  gay  wings,  roamed  in  the  garden  of  food.1 

Then  stood  the  child  on  his  baby  feet, 

And  the  lisping  words  of  his  lips  were  sweet. 

Not  for  an  instant  the  dame  would  part 

From  the  infant  whose  love  had  enchained  her  heart. 

On  her  bosom  at  night,  like  her  soul,  he  lay, 

And  was  ever  the  sun  of  her  eyes  by  day. 

But  the  love  of  the  father  grew  strong,  and  he 
Would  fain  the  face  of  his  darling  see ; 
He  longed  that  the  babe,  who  alone  could  kill 
The  grief  of  his  heart,  should  be  near  him  still ; 
Day  and  night  he  would  have  him  near, 
A  moon  the  gloom  of  his  soul  to  cheer. 
Thus  to  his  sister  he  said  :  —  "  O  thou 
Whom  love  for  me  bends  like  the  willow  bough, 
My  Yusuf,  my  child,  to  my  side  restore ; 
His  absence  is  grief  I  can  bear  no  more. 
Let  him  come  to  the  place  where  I  pray  alone, 
To  the  dreary  cell  where  I  make  my  moan." 

The  sister  heard  the  words  that  he  said ; 
In  the  sign  of  obedience  she  bowed  her  head, 
But  plotted  deep  in  her  heart  the  while 
To  bring  the  child  back  to  her  home  by  guile. 
She  had  a  belt  which  Isaac  had  given, 

1  Was  weaned  and  began  to  eat. 


402  Jami. 

Worn  by  him  long  in  the  service  of  Heaven  : 

Free  from  all  evil  was  he  whose  hand 

Bound  on  his  body  that  blessed  band. 

When  she  sent  the  boy  to  his  father,  she  braced 

The  girdle  secretly  round  his  waist, 

Fastened  so  deftly  that  Yusuf  felt 

No  strain  or  touch  of  the  supple  belt. 

So  the  boy  went  forth.     But  a  sudden  shout 

And  a  bitter  cry  from  the  dame  rang  out : 

"  Lost  is  the  girdle  I  wore."     She  left 

None  unaccused  of  the  graceless  theft. 

Those  of  her  household  came  at  her  call, 

And,  ranged  before  her,  she  searched  them  all. 

At  last  came  the  turn  of  Yusuf,  and  round 

His  waist  the  girdle  she  sought  was  found. 

There  was  a  law  for  repressing  crime, 
Fixed  for  the  faithful  in  ancient  time, 
Which  to  the  injured  owner  gave 
The  captured  thief  for  his  thrall  and  slave. 
Thus,  by  the  fraud  she  had  plotted  caught, 
The  boy  again  to  her  home  was  brought. 
Glad  was  her  eye  and  her  soul  elate, 
But  that  eye  soon  closed  at  the  stroke  of  Fate. 

The  heart  of  Jacob  at  last  reposed, 
As  he  gazed  with  his  fond  eyes  that  never  closed ; 
From  the  sons  that  were  round  him  he  looked  away, 
And  turned  to  him  as  we  turn  to  pray. 
For  Yusuf  now  was  his  only  thought 
In  each  work  that  he  planned,  in  each  aim  that  he 
sought. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  403 

In  Yusuf  only  his  soul  had  delight, 
For  only  Yusuf  his  eye  grew  bright. 

How  may  I  tell  the  boy's  beauty?     Where 
Could  Houri  or  Peri  be  found  so  fair? 
When  the  moonlight  shines  on  the  landscape,  none 
Would  turn  to  look  on  a  garish  sun. 
He  was  a  moon  in  the  sphere  of  grace 
That  threw  a  soft  light  over  life  and  space  : 
And  yet  no  moon,  but  a  sun  that  lent 
His  light  to  the  moon  of  the  firmament. 
But  shall  I  his  light  to  the  sun's  compare  — 
To  the  false  mirage  of  the  desert  air? 
'Twas  a  wondrous  ineffable  lustre,  far 
Beyond  the  brightness  of  things  that  are; 
For  the  One  Unspeakable  God  in  that  frame 
Lay  concealed  under  Yusuf  s  name. 
How  shall  we  marvel  if,  fostered  long 
In  the  father's  bosom,  his  love  grew  strong? 

Zulaikha,  envied  of  Houris,  at  rest 
In  her  virgin  bower  afar  in  the  West, 
Ne'er  had  seen  the  sun  of  his  beauty  gleam, 
But  was  snared  by  his  loveliness  seen  in  a  dream. 
If  Love's  dominion  no  distance  can  bar, 
When  heart  is  near  heart  he  can  never  be  far. 

Zulaikha. 

Thus  the  masters  of  speech  record, 
In  whose  bosoms  the  treasures  of  words  are  stored  : 
There  was  a  king  in  the  West.1     His  name, 
1  In  Mauritania. 


404  Jami. 

Taimus,  was  spread  wide  by  the  drum  of  fame. 

Of  royal  power  and  wealth  possessed, 

No  wish  unanswered  remained  in  his  breast. 

His  brow  gave  lustre  to  glory's  crown, 

And  his  foot  gave  the  thrones  of  the  mighty  renown. 

With  Orion  from  heaven  his  host  to  aid, 

Conquest  was  his  when  he  bared  his  blade. 

His  child  Zulaikha  was  passing  fair, 

None  in  his  heart  might  with  her  compare ; 

Of  his  royal  house  the  most  brilliant  star, 

A  gem  from  the  chest  where  the  treasures  are. 

Praise  cannot  equal  her  beauty,  no ; 

But  its  faint,  faint  shadow  my  pen  may  show. 

Like  her  own  bright  hair  falling  loosely  down, 

I  will  touch  each  charm  to  her  feet  from  her  crown. 

May  the  soft  reflection  of  that  bright  cheek, 

Lend  light  to  my  spirit  and  bid  me  speak, 

And  that  flashing  ruby,  her  mouth,  bestow 

The  power  to  tell  of  the  things  I  know. 

Her  stature  was  like  to  a  palm  tree  grown 
In  the  garden  of  grace  where  no  sin  is  known. 
Bedewed  by  the  love  of  her  father  the  king, 
She  mocked  the  cypress  that  rose  by  the  spring. 
Sweet  with  the  odor  of  musk,  a  snare 
For  the  heart  of  the  wise  was  the  maiden's  hair. 
Tangled  at  night,  in  the  morning  through 
Her  long  thick  tresses  a  comb  she  drew, 
And  cleft  the  heart  of  the  musk-deer  in  twain 
As  for  that  rare  odor  he  sighed  in  vain. 
A  dark  shade  fell  from  her  loose  hair  sweet 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  405 

As  jasmine  over  the  rose  of  her  feet. 

A  broad  silver  tablet  her  forehead  displayed 

For  the  heaven-set  lessons  of  beauty  made. 

Under  its  edge  two  inverted  Nuns x 

Showed,  black  as  musk,  their  splendid  half-moons, 

And  beneath  them  lively  and  bright  were  placed 

Two  Sads2  by  the  pen  of  her  Maker  traced. 

From  Nun  to  the  ring  of  the  Mini 3  there  rose, 

Pure  as  silver,  like  Alif,4  her  nose. 

To  that  cipher  her  mouth  add  Alif,  then 

She  had  ten  strong  spells  for  the  conquest  of  men.4 

That  laughing  ruby  to  view  exposed 

A  Sin 5  when  the  knot  of  her  lips  unclosed 

At  the  touch  of  her  pure  white  teeth,  and  between 

The  lines  of  crimson  their  flash  was  seen. 

Her  face  was  the  garden  of  Irani,6  where 

Roses  of  every  hue  are  fair. 

The  dusky  moles  that  enhanced  the  red 

Were  like  Moorish  boys  playing  in  each  rose-bed. 

Of  silver  that  paid  no  tithe,  her  chin 

Had  a  well  with  the  Water  of  Life  therein. 

If  a  sage  in  his  thirst  came  near  to  drink, 

1  The  letter  hhm  of  the  Arabic  alphabet ;  pronounced  noon. 

2  The  letter  Sad  is  supposed,  in  its  right-hand  portion,  to  re- 
semble the  eye. 

3  The  small  circular  part  of  the  letter  Mint  is  compared  to  a 
mouth. 

4  Alif  is  a  long  straight  letter;  it  stands  for  the  number  one,  and, 
prefixed  to  a  cipher,  notes  10. 

5  The  letter  Sin  bears  a  rough  resemblance  to  teeth. 

6  A  fabulous  garden  in  Arabia,  like  the  Garden  of  the  Hesperides 
of  the  Greeks. 


406  Jami. 

He  would  feel  the  spray  ere  he  reached  the  brink, 

But  lost  were  his  soul  if  he  nearer  drew, 

For  it  was  a  well  and  a  whirlpool  too. 

Her  neck  was  of  ivory.     Thither  drawn, 

Came  with  her  tribute  to  beauty  the  fawn ; 

And  the  rose  hung  her  head  at  the  gleam  of  the  skin 

Of  shoulders  fairer  than  jessamine. 

Her  breasts  were  orbs  of  a  light  most  pure, 

Twin  bubbles  new-risen  from  fount  Kafur : l 

Two  young  pomegranates  grown  on  one  spray, 

Where  bold  hope  never  a  finger  might  lay. 

The  touchstone  itself  was  proved  false  when  it  tried 

Her  arms'  fine  silver  thrice  purified  ; 

But  the  pearl-pure  amulets  fastened  there 

Were  the  hearts  of  the  holy  absorbed  in  prayer. 

The  loveliest  gave  her  their  souls  for  rue,2 

And  round  the  charm  their  own  heartstrings  drew. 

Her  arms  filled  her  sleeves  with  silver  from  them 

Whose  brows  are  bound  with  the  diadem. 

To  labor  and  care  her  soft  hand  lent  aid, 

And  to  wounded  hearts  healing  unction  laid. 

Like  reeds  were  those  taper  fingers  of  hers, 

To  write  on  each  heart  love's  characters. 

Each  nail  on  those  fingers  so  long  and  slim 

Showed  a  new  moon  laid  on  a  full  moon's  brim, 

And  her  small  closed  hand  made  the  moon  confess 

That  she  never  might  rival  its  loveliness. 

Two  columns  fashioned  of  silver  upheld 

1  Camphor :  the  name  of  a  well  in  Paradise. 

2  The  small  black  seeds  of  the  wild  rue  were  used  in  enchantments. 


Yusnf  and  Zulaikha.  407 

That  beauty  which  never  was  paralleled, 
And,  to  make  the  tale  of  her  charms  complete, 
They  were  matched  by  the  shape  of  her  exquisite  feet. 
Feet  so  light  and  elastic  no  maid  might  show, 
So  perfectly  fashioned  from  heel  to  toe. 
If  on  the  eye  of  a  lover  she  stepped, 
Her  foot  would  float  on  the  tear  he  wept. 
What  shall  I  say  of  her  gems  and  gold  ? 
Weak  were  my  tale  when  my  best  were  told. 
She  was  not  fairer  for  gold  or  gem, 
But  her  perfect  loveliness  glorified  them. 
Each  gem  the  tax  of  a  realm,  she  set 
On  her  forehead  a  glistering  coronet : 
And  the  rubies  that  hung  from  her  fine  ears  stole 
Each  gazer's  senses,  and  heart  and  soul. 
A  thousand  jewels  most  rich  and  rare 
Studded  the  band  that  confined  her  hair. 
Not  a  hand  but  hers  had  the  art  to  twist 
The  bracelet  which  circled  her  delicate  wrist. 
What  need  I  say  of  her  jewels  more? 
Glistering  anklets  of  gold  she  wore. 
She  moved  through  her  chambers  in  raiment  wrought 
With  gold,  from  Egypt  and  Syria  bought, 
Or  with  languishing  looks  on  her  couch  she  leant 
In  brocades  which  China  and  Rum  l  had  sent. 
She  decked  her  beauty  with  some  new  dress 
Each  morn  that  she  lit  with  her  loveliness. 
As  the  moon  each  night  by  fresh  stars  is  met, 
So  she  wore  not  twice  the  same  coronet. 

1  Greece. 


408  Jami. 

The  hem  of  her  mantle  alone  might  gain 
A  kiss  of  that  foot  while  kings  sought  it  in  vain; 
And  no  hand  but  the  fold  of  her  robe  embraced 
The  delicate  stem  of  her  dainty  waist. 

Maidens  like  cypresses  straight  and  tall, 
With  Peri  faces,  obeyed  her  call ; 
And  by  day  and  by  night  in  her  service  stood 
The  Houris'  loveliest  sisterhood. 
No  burthen  as  yet  had  her  sweet  soul  borne ; 
Never  her  foot  had  been  pierced  by  a  thorn. 
No  breath  of  passion  her  heart  might  stir, 
And  to  love  and  be  loved  was  unknown  to  her. 
Like  the  languid  narcissus  she  slept  at  night, 
And  hailed  like  an  opening  bud  the  light. 
With  silver-faced  maidens  in  childhood's  hour, 
And  gazelle-like  playmates  in  garden  and  bower, 
Heedless  of  Fate  and  its  cruel  play, 
Sport  was  her  business  and  life  was  gay. 
By  no  fear  of  peril  or  woe  oppressed, 
Blithe  was  each  thought  of  her  virgin  breast, 
For  she  knew  not  the  fate  that  the  days  would  bring, 
Or  what  terrible  birth  from  the  nights  would  spring. 

The  First  Vision. 

Sweet  as  the  morning  of  life,  the  night 

Was  filled  like  the  springtide  of  youth  with  delight. 

Each  bird  was  asleep,  and  each  fish  in  the  rill, 

And  even  the  stream  of  event  was  still. 

In  this  garden,  the  joy  of  uncounted  eyes, 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  409 

All  were  at  rest  save  the  stars  in  the  skies. 

Night  had  hushed  the  tongue  of  the  tinkling  bell, 

And  stolen  the  sense  of  the  sentinel. 

His  twisted  tail,  as  he  curled  him  round, 

Was  a  collar  to  choke  the  voice  of  the  hound. 

The  bird  of  night  had  no  power  to  sing, 

For  his  reed  was  cut  with  the  sword  of  his  wing. 

The  drowsy  watchman  scarce  raised  his  eye, 

And  the  palace  dome,  where  it  rose  on  high, 

Wore,  as  his  senses  had  well-nigh  fled, 

The  form  of  a  monstrous  poppy-head. 

The  drummer  ceased,  and  his  hand,  o'ercome 

By  the  might  of  slumber,  lay  still  on  the  drum, 

Ere  the  loud-voiced  Muezzin  calling  to  prayer 

Had  rolled  up  the  beds  of  the  sleepers  there. 

Her  narcissus  eyes  *  in  deep  slumber  closed, 

Sweetly  the  sweet-lipped  Zulaikha  reposed. 

Tresses  of  spikenard  her  pillow  pressed, 

And  the  rose  of  her  limbs  strewed  the  couch  of  her  rest, 

While  the  hair  dishevelled  on  that  fair  head 

Wrote  on  the  rose  with  each  silken  thread. 

The  outward  eye  of  the  maiden  slept, 

But  the  eye  of  her  spirit  its  vigil  kept ; 

And  she  saw  before  her  a  fair  youth  stand  — 

Nay,  'twas  a  being  from  spirit-land  : 

From  the  world  of  glory,  more  lovely  far 

Than  the  large-eyed  damsels  of  Paradise  are  ; 

For  his  face  made  their  beauty  and  glances  dim, 

And  their  glances  and  beauty  were  stolen  from  him. 

1  Eyes  heavy  with  sleep  are  frequently  compared  to  the  narcissus. 


410  Jami. 

His  form  like  a  sapling  was  straight  and  tall, 

And  the  cypress  tree  was,  to  him,  a  thrall.1 

His  hair,  a  beautiful  chain  to  bind 

The  heart  of  the  wisest,  flowed  unconfined. 

The  sun  and  the  moon  confessed  with  shame 

That  a  purer  light  from  his  forehead  came. 

The  arch  2  of  the  mosque  where  the  holy  bow, 

Or  the  canopy  made  for  their  rest,  was  his  brow. 

His  eyes,  where  the  tint  of  the  surma  was  new, 

With  a  dart  from  each  lash  pierced  the  bosom  through, 

And  the  pearls,  when  the  rubies  apart  were  drawn, 

Were  as  lightning's  flash  through  the  red  of  dawn. 

Zulaikha  saw,  and  a  moment  —  one  — 
Was  too  much,  for  the  maid  was  forever  undone. 
One  glance  at  that  loveliest  form,  which  passed 
Men,  and  Peris,  and  Houris,  she  cast, 
And  to  that  sweet  face  and  those  charms  a  slave 
Her  heart  —  nay,  a  hundred  hearts  —  she  gave. 
From  the  visional  form  she  would  never  forget 
The  plant  of  love  in  her  breast  was  set. 


The  Last  Vision. 

Words  would  fail  me  to  tell  how  fair 

Was  the  wondrous  beauty  she  looked  on  there. 

The  hem  of  his  garment  was  fast  in  her  hold, 

And  over  his  feet  her  hot  weepings  rolled. 

And  she  cried  :  "  O  thou,  for  whose  dear  love  flies 

1  The  usual  epithet  of  the  cypress  is  "  free." 

2  The  arch  toward  which  worshippers  turn  in  prayer. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikba.  411 

All  calm  from  my  bosom,  all  sleep  from  mine  eyes, 
By  the  Pure  One  who  made  thee  so  pure  from  thy  birth, 
And  chose  thee  most  fair  of  the  beauties  of  earth, 
Pity  the  anguish  I  suffer,  disclose 
Thy  name  and  thy  city,  and  lighten  my  woes." 

He  answered  :  "  If  this  may  content  thee,  hear ; 
In  Egypt's  land  I  am  Grand  Vizir. 
Mid  her  proudest  princes  my  place  is  high, 
And  the  trusted  friend  of  the  king  am  I." 

These  words  from  her  idol  Zulaikha  heard, 
And  her  spirit,  long  dead,  with  new  life  was  stirred, 
In  the  quickening  balm  of  his  sweet  voice  came 
To  her  soul  new  patience,  and  strength  to  her  frame. 
She  rose  from  her  dream,  and  her  heart  was  gay ; 
The  cloud  of  madness  had  passed  away. 

■ffc  t£  *5f  "Jp1  ^Jf"  t£  jfc 

Pleasant  and  gay  were  Zulaikha's  words, 
And  her  voice  was  sweet  as  a  musical  bird's ; 
The  seal  of  the  casket  of  speech  she  broke, 
And  of  many  a  city  and  country  spoke, 
And  of  Sham  and  Rum,  and  sugar  ran  down 
From  her  lips  at  mention  of  Egypt's  renown ; ! 
Of  the  deeds  that  her  people  had  done  of  old, 
Of  the  Grand  Vizir  and  his  state  she  told. 
When  she  spoke  of  the  title  she  loved  so  well, 
As  falls  a  shadow,  to  earth  she  fell ; 
She  rained  down  blood  from  the  cloud  of  her  eyes, 
And  the  voice  of  her  weeping  went  up  to  the  skies. 

1  Egypt  (Misr)  was  famous  for  sugar,  which  in  India  is  still  called 
misri. 


412  Jami. 

Thus  passed  her  day  and  her  night ;  of  naught 
Save  her  love  and  his  country  she  spoke  or  thought. 
When  she  mentioned  his  title,  her  voice  was  glad, 
Else  she  lay  sullen  and  silent  and  sad. 

The  Ambassador. 

Day  by  day  Zulaikha's  despair 

Grew  a  weight  too  heavy  for  her  to  bear. 

In  blank  pale  longing,  though  overcast 

With  the  black  hue  of  sorrow,  her  days  were  passed. 

The  father  pitied  the  maiden's  grief 

And  counselled  thus  for  her  soul's  relief : 

"  A  prudent  envoy  I  needs  must  send 

To  Egypt's  Vizir  that  her  woe  may  end, 

A  tender  message  from  her  to  bear, 

That  the  bonds  of  love  may  unite  the  pair." 

He  chose  a  chamberlain  deeply  skilled : 
With  praise  of  his  wisdom  his  ear  he  filled, 
And  with  many  a  present  most  rich  and  rare 
Bade  him  to  Egypt's  Vizir  repair, 
And  say  :  "  O  Prince  on  whose  threshold  lies 
Dust  that  is  kissed  by  the  circling  skies, 
May  the  favor  of  Heaven  increase  each  day 
Thy  fame  and  honor  and  princely  sway. 
In  the  House  of  Purity  shines  my  Sun 
By  whose  splendor  the  envious  moon  is  outdone. 
Higher  her  place  than  the  moon's,  I  ween  : 
Her  shadow  never  the  sun  has  seen. 
Purer  than  pearls  in  their  virgin  shells 
Her  splendor  the  lustre  of  stars  excels. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikba.  413 

She  veils  her  moonlight  from  the  world,  and  debars 

From  the  sight  of  her  beauty  the  curious  stars. 

Only  her  comb  may  loosen  each  tress, 

And  her  mirror  behold  her  loveliness. 

Only  the  coils  of  her  hair  are  blest 

On  her  delicate  foot  for  a  while  to  rest. 

The  hem  of  her  mantle  —  and  only  this  — 

As  she  walks  in  the  courtyard  her  foot  may  kiss. 

Never  her  chin  has  been  touched  by  her  maid, 

On  her  lip  not  the  sugar-cane's  finger  laid. 

She  shrinks  away  from  that  flower  who  throws 

The  veil  of  her  beauty  aside,  the  rose. 

From  the  sweet  narcissus  her  eyes  decline, 

For  its  blossom  is  heavy  and  drunk  with  wine. 

Even  her  shadow's  pursuit  she  would  shun, 

And  fly  from  the  lustre  of  moon  and  sun. 

To  the  stream  and  the  fountain  she  will  not  repair 

Lest  her  eye  should  meet  her  reflection  there. 

She  dwells  in  her  home  behind  screen  and  bar, 

But  the  fame  of  her  beauty  is  known  afar. 

A  hundred  kings  with  their  hearts  on  fire 

In  eager  hope  to  her  hand  aspire. 

From  Rum  to  Damascus  beyond  the  flood 

Each  heart  for  her  love  has  drunk  deep  of  blood. 

But  longing  for  Egypt  has  filled  her  breast, 

And  she  turns  her  eye  and  her  heart  from  the  rest. 

For  Rum  she  can  find  in  that  heart  no  room, 

And  gay  Damascus  is  naught  but  gloom. 

Her  eye  toward  Egypt  has  marked  the  road, 

And  the  Nile  of  her  tears  has  for  Egypt  flowed. 


414  Jami. 

I  know  but  her  longing ;  I  know  not  the  cause, 
Or  the  charm  that  to  Egypt  her  spirit  draws. 
Tis  her  destined  home,  and  from  Egypt  came 
The  dust,  I  ween,  that  composed  her  frame. 
If  in  thy  sight  it  seem  good,  I  have  planned 
To  send  her  to  thee  in  her  chosen  land. 
If  she  be  not  peerless  in  beauty  and  grace 
She  may  hold  in  thy  palace  a  menial's  place." 

The  Grand  Vizir  heard  the  speech,  and,  amazed, 
To  the  highest  heaven  his  head  was  raised. 
He  bowed  and  made  answer  :   "  And  what  am  I 
That  a  seed  of  this  doubt  in  my  heart  should  lie  ? 
The  grace  of  thy  lord  lifts  me  up  from  the  mire, 
And  'tis  meet  that  my  head  to  the  heavens  aspire. 
I  am  the  dust  which  the  cloud  of  spring 
Bedews  with  the  drops  which  he  loves  to  fling. 
If  a  hundred  tongues  like  the  grass-blades  grew, 
My  tongues  to  thank  him  were  all  too  few. 
The  grace  of  the  monarch  is  guarantee 
That  Fortune  ever  shall  favor  me. 
With  the  head  of  my  foot,  with  the  eyes  of  my  shoe, 
I  would  hasten  to  meet  him,  his  pleasure  to  do. 
But  to  Egypt's  ruler,  the  great  and  wise, 
I  am  bound  so  closely  by  duty's  ties, 
That,  were  I  absent  a  single  hour, 
I  should  feel  the  weight  of  the  sword  of  his  power. 
Then  pardon  the  servant  whom  duties  bind, 
And  impute  not  the  blame  to  a  haughty  mind. 
Should  the  king  thy  lord  to  my  prayer  attend, 
Two  hundred  litters  of  gold  will  I  send 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikba.  415 

With  thousands  of  boys  and  maidens,  all 

Like  the  Tuba  tree,1  graceful,  and  straight,  and  tall ; 

Those  boys  are  noble,  and  free  from  vice, 

And  purer  than  children  of  Paradise. 

Their  laughing  lips  are  most  sweet,  with  rare 

Pearl  and  ruby  they  bind  their  hair ; 

With  caps  coquettishly  set  on  the  side 

Of  their  heads,  on  saddles  of  gold  they  ride. 

And  the  maidens  are  robed  like  the  Houris ;  they 

Are  pure  of  all  blemish  of  water  and  clay. 

Above  their  bright  faces  are  full-drawn  bows, 

And  their  sweet  locks  shadow  their  cheeks  of  rose. 

All  gems  and  jewels  their  beauty  adorn, 

And  veiled  in  litters  of  gold  are  they  borne. 

Their  guides  shall  be  elders,  the  pillars  of  State, 

Prudent  in  council  and  wise  in  debate, 

To  receive  the  fair  maid  with  due  honor,  and  bring 

To  my  humble  home  the  sweet  child  of  the  king." 

He  ceased  :  the  envoy  bowed  down  his  head, 
And  kissed  the  ground  at  his  feet,  and  said  : 
"  Spring  of  the  glory  of  Egypt,  thou 
Hast  added  a  grace  to  thy  favors  now. 
But  send  no  escort ;  my  lord  will  provide 
From  his  ample  household  a  train  for  the  bride. 
The  boys  and  the  delicate  maids  who  dwell 
In  his  courts  are  too  many  for  number  to  tell ; 
Robes  of  honor  in  store  has  he, 
More  than  the  leaves  of  a  shady  tree, 
Showering  gems  from  a  liberal  hand 

1  Tuba  is  the  name  of  a  tree  in  Paradise. 


416  Jami. 

More  than  the  desert  has  grains  of  sand ; 

To  please  thee  only  his  wish  is  bent, 

And  blest  is  the  man  with  whom  he  is  content. 

If  the  vintage  be  worthy  thy  table,  he 

Will  quickly  send  the  sweet  fruit  to  thee." 

The   Departure. 

To  release  Zulaikha's  sad  heart  from  pain 

From  Egypt  returned  the  wise  chamberlain, 

And  even  the  selfish  rejoiced  to  hear 

The  message  he  brought  from  the  Grand  Vizir. 

Her  rose  of  felicity  bloomed  anew, 

And  the  Huma1  of  fortune  above  her  flew. 

A  dream  had  bound  her  in  fetters  :  she 

Saw  a  vision  again  and  her  soul  was  free. 

So  ever  from  dream  or  from  fancy  springs 

The  joy  or  the  sorrow  which  this  world  brings. 

Most  happy  is  he  who  from  both  can  fly, 

And  lightly  pass  the  dread  whirlpool  by. 

Her  father  rejoiced,  and  with  care  and  speed 
He  prepared  the  escort  the  bride  would  need. 
Thousands  of  maids  in  their  youthful  bloom 
He  chose  from  the  fairest  of  Rus  2  and  Rum. 
Their  breasts  were  pomegranates,  their  mouths,  half- 
shut, 
Showed  each  like  a  tender  pistachio-nut, 

1  The  huma  is  a  fabulous  bird  whose  shadow  falling  on  a  man's 
head  denotes  that  he  will  become  a  king, 

2  Russia. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikba.  417 

And  over  each  bosom  and  cheek  was  spread 

The  sweet  faint  flush  of  a  young  rose-bed. 

Orient  pearls  from  their  fine  ears  hung, 

And  black  bows  over  their  eyes  were  strung, 

Pure  of  all  dye  as  the  leaves  of  the  rose 

In  the  cool  of  the  morning  when  zephyr  blows. 

On  tulip  blossoms  fell  scented  curls, 

And  on  rounded  necks  was  the  glimmer  of  pearls ; 

And  a  thousand  boys  with  bright  eyes  that  took 

The  heart  of  a  maiden  with  each  long  look, 

With  red  caps  stuck  on  their  heads  oblique, 

And  loose  locks  shading  each  youthful  cheek. 

Each  of  his  gold-hued  garment  was  vain, 

'Twas  soft  as  the  rosebud,  and  tight  as  the  cane. 

Each  tress  escaping,  as  loosely  it  flowed, 

Like  spikenard  under  a  tulip  showed. 

Their  jewelled  belts  round  their  fine  waists  clung, 

And  a  hundred  hearts  on  their  bright  hair  hung. 

There  were  thousand  horses  of  noble  breed, 

Gentle  to  saddle,  unmatched  in  speed ; 

With  paces  easy  as  rivulets,  all 

Fleeter  at  need  than  the  flying  ball. 

If  they  saw  but  the  shade  of  a  falling  lash, 

Away  from  the  race-course  of  Time  would  they  dash. 

Swift  as  wild  asses  they  scoured  the  plain, 

And  like  birds  of  the  water  they  swam  the  main. 

Their  tails  were  knotted  like  canes ;  the  dint 

Of  their  strong  hoofs  shattered  the  hardest  flint. 

They  flew  over  the  hill  like  an  even  lawn, 

But  stayed  their  speed  when  the  rein  was  drawn. 


418  J  ami. 

And  a  thousand  camels,  a  wondrous  sight, 
With  their  mountain  backs  and  their  stately  height. 
Mountains,  supported  on  pillars,  were  they, 
And  the  course  of  their  tempest  no  hand  might  stay. 
Like  holy  hermits,  their  food  was  spare  ; 
Burthens  they  bore  as  the  patient  bear. 
Through  a  hundred  deserts  unwearied  they  went, 
With  thorns,  as  with  spikenard  and  rose,  content. 
They  tasted  no  food  and  they  closed  no  eye, 
But  toiled  on  through  the  sand  at  the  drivers'  cry. 
A  hundred  loads  from  the  royal  store, 
Each  the  yearly  yield  of  a  province,  they  bore  ; 
Two  hundred  carpets  of  rich  brocade, 
In  Rum  and  Damascus  and  Egypt  made ; 
Two  hundred  caskets  of  gems  most  rare, — 
Pearls,  sapphires,  Badakhshan's  rubies  were  there  ; 
Two  hundred  trays  with  fine  musk  therein, 
And  amber,  and  aloe  from  Comorin. 
Like  a  meadow  in  China  each  spot  was  bright 
Where  the  driver  rested  his  camels  at  night. 

Her  father's  care  for  Zulaikha  supplied 
A  litter  fair  as  the  bed  of  a  bride. 
Of  the  wood  of  the  aloe  its  frame  was  made, 
And  the  well-joined  boards  were  with  gold  o'erlaid. 
Its  gold-wrought  awning  was  bright  as  the  sun, — 
Jamshid  !  never  boasted  a  brighter  one. 
Pearl  in  clusters,  and  many  a  pin 
And  stud  of  gold  decked  it  without  and  within ; 
And  finest  needlework  graced  each  fold 

1 A  celebrated  Persian  king,  the  builder  of  Persepolis. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  419 

Of  the  heavy  hangings  of  tissue  of  gold. 

Thus  with  imperial  pomp  and  pride 
They  carried  to  Memphis  the  beautiful  bride. 
Her  litter  was  borne  by  swift  steeds,  as  the  rose 
Is  wafted  by  winds  from  her  place  of  repose. 
Her  maidens  followed,  with  figures  fine 
As  the  graceful  cypress,  the  plane,  or  the  pine ; 
With  arm  and  bosom  and  cheek  and  hair 
Like  jasmine  sweet  or  like  jasmine  fair. 
You  had  said  that  the  bloom  of  the  young  spring- 
time 
Was  fleeting  away  to  a  distant  clime. 
Iram's  garden  envied  the  spot  which  those 
Bright  flowers  of  the  palace  to  rest  them  chose ; 
Where  the  boys  dismounting  their  pastime  took, 
And  the  girls  from  their  litters  shot  many  a  look, 
And  spread  the  fine  net  of  their  beautiful  hair 
Till  each  captured  her  prey  in  the  silken  snare ; 
And  each  boy  shot  from  his  eye  a  dart 
That  enslaved  a  maiden  and  touched  her  heart. 
Here  were  seen  gallantry,  glances,  and  smiles, 
The  lover's  wooing,  the  maiden's  wiles. 
Lovers  and  loved  were  assorted  well, 
Those  eager  to  buy  and  these  ready  to  sell. 
Thus  each  stage  of  the  journey  they  passed, 
And  Memphis  city  was  gained  at  last. 

Zulaikha  —  for  Fortune  now  seemed  her  friend  — 
Had  longed  in  her  heart  for  the  journey's  end, 
When  the  dawn  should  rise  on  her  night  of  woe 
And  the  pangs  of  the  parted  no  more  she  should  know. 


420  Jami. 

But  oh  !  black  is  the  night  that  before  her  lies ; 
Tis  an  age  till  the  sun  of  her  joy  shall  rise. 

Through  the  glare  of  day,  through  the  gloom  of  night, 
They  travelled,  and  Memphis  was  now  in  sight. 
From  the  city  a  messenger  came  at  speed  — 
Whose  litter  the  coming  pomp  should  precede 
To  bring  the  glad  news  to  the  Grand  Vizir, 
That  she  whom  he  looked  for  was  near,  was  near. 
"  Rise  up,  rise  up,  and  with  eager  feet 
Thy  bliss  who  approaches  go  forth  to  meet." 

The   Welcome. 

To  the  Grand  Vizir  the  glad  news  was  brought, 

And  he  deemed  he  had  compassed  each  aim  he  sought. 

He  bade  proclamation  be  made,  and  all 

The  army  of  Memphis  obeyed  the  call, 

That  with  full  equipment  and  arms  complete, 

At  the  place  appointed  the  hosts  should  meet. 

From  head  to  foot  they  were  bright  to  behold, 
Smothered  in  jewels,  and  sheen  of  gold. 
Myriad  boys  and  maidens  were  there, 
With  cheeks  of  the  rose,  and  like  full  moons  fair. 
Like  a  palm-tree  of  gold  in  the  saddle  set, 
Showed  each  youth  with  his  collar  and  coronet, 
And  bright  in  her  charms  with  their  sevenfold  aid,1 
Screened  in  her  litter  of  gold  was  each  maid ; 

1  Henna  for  the  hands;  surma  or  kohl  for  the  eyes,  wasma  for 
the  eyebrows ;  rouge  and  sapedab,  or  white  water,  for  the  face ;  and 
bracelets  and  anklets.    Other  enumerations  are  also  given. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  421 

Loudly  in  triumph  glad  voices  rang 
As  sweet-toned  singers  in  unison  sang, 
The  harp  of  the  minstrel  was  strung  anew, 
And  the  music  he  made  was  of  triumph  too. 

Of  meeting  and  pleasure  the  soft  flute  spoke, 
And  tender  thoughts  in  each  heart  awoke, 
While  sorrow  fled  far  at  the  merry  din 
Of  the  drum,  and  rebeck,  and  violin. 

Thus  in  jubilee  blithe  and  gay, 
The  escort  from  Memphis  pursued  its  way. 
Three  stages,  as  journeys  the  moon,  they  passed, 
And  the  sun  of  beauty  was  reached  at  last. 
To  a  smooth  and  spacious  meadow  they  came, 
Studded  with  thousands  of  domes  of  flame, 
You  had  said  that  the  sky  had  poured  down  on  the 

plain 
Its  brightest  stars  in  a  golden  rain. 
There  rose  a  pavilion,  girt  with  a  wall 
Of  chosen  sentinels,  high  over  all. 
Laughed  the  Vizir  as  he  saw  it  gleam, 
As  the  orient  laughs  with  the  first  sunbeam. 
Swift  from  his  steed  he  alighted  and  bent 
His  eager  steps  to  the  royal  tent. 
The  harem  warders  came  forth  to  meet 
The  noble,  and  bowed  to  the  earth  at  his  feet. 
He  asked  of  their  lady,  and  bade  them  say, 
What  of  the  weather  and  toil  of  the  way. 

Of  the  princely  gifts  that  were  with  him,  those 
That  were  fairest  and  best  in  his  sight  he  chose  : 
Sweet-smiling  boys  of  his  own  household, 


422  Jami. 

With  caps  and  girdles  ablaze  with  gold ; 

High-bred  horses  with  golden  gear, 

Covered  with  jewels  from  croup  to  ear ; 

Raiment  of  satin  and  woven  hair, 

And  pearls  from  his  storehouse  most  rich  and  rare ; 

Sugar  of  Egypt,  with  care  refined, 

And  sherbet  of  every  color  and  kind  — 

All  on  the  spacious  plain  were  arrayed, 

And  with  courteous  words  his  excuses  he  made. 

He  ordered  the  march  at  the  break  of  day, 

When  homeward  again  he  would  bend  his  way. 

Despair. 

The  ancient  Hraven  delights  to  cheat 
The  children  of  earth  with  his  vain  deceit. 
The  heart  of  the  lover  with  hope  he  will  stay, 
And  then  dashes  the  idle  phantom  away. 
The  fruit  that  he  longed  for  was  shown  afar, 
And  his  bosom  will  bear  through  his  life  a  scar. 

A  shadow  lay  on  the  ground,  and  near 
Zulaikha's  tent  stood  the  Grand  Vizir. 
She  dropped  the  rein  of  patience  and  prayed 
For  one  glance  at  her  love  with  her  nurse's  aid. 
"  O  thou  whose  affection  through  life  I  have  tried, 
I  can  bear  this  longing  no  longer,"  she  cried. 
"  Near  a  cup  of  sweet  water  the  thirsty  lip 
Is  maddened  with  pain  if  it  may  not  sip." 

The  faithful  nurse  marked  the  maiden's  grief, 
And  looked  round  the  wall  for  a  way  of  relief. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  423 

With  her  crafty  finger  she  made  a  rent 

Like  a  narrow  eye  in  the  cloth  of  the  tent. 

Zulaikha  looked  through  with  an  eager  eye, 

But  heaved  from  her  bosom  a  long  sad  sigh : 

"  Ah  me  !  that  so  wondrous  a  fate  should  befall ! 

Low  in  the  dust  lies  my  half-built  wall. 

This  is  not  the  youth  of  my  vision,  he 

Whom  after  long  troubles  I  hoped  to  see; 

Who  seized  the  rein  of  my  heart  and  stole 

With  his  magic  power  my  sense  and  soul ; 

Who  told  me  his  secret  and  gently  brought 

Reason  again  to  a  mind  distraught. 

Alas  !  the  star  of  my  hapless  fate 

Has  left  me  deceived  and  disconsolate. 

Palm  trees  I  planted,  but  thistles  grew : 

I  sowed  Love's  seed,  but  the  harvest  is  rue. 

I  endured  for  my  treasure  long  sorrows  and  toils, 

But  the  guardian  dragon  my  labor  foils. 

I  would  cull  the  rose  for  the  precious  scent, 

But,  alas  !  my  robe  with  the  thorn  is  rent. 

I  am  one  athirst  in  a  desert  land, 

Seeking  for  water  and  mocked  with  sand. 

Dry  is  my  tongue  with  unbearable  thirst, 

And  the  blood  from  my  ferverous  lip  would  burst. 

I  see  at  a  distance  fair  water  gleam, 

And  I  struggle  and  crawl  to  the  tempting  stream, 

And  find  no  water  but  sand  whereon 

Deluding  beams  of  the  bright  sun  shone. 

A  camel  am  I,  on  the  mountain  strayed, 

With  a  mountain  of  hunger  and  toil  down-weighed, 


424  Jami. 

The  stones  are  sharp  and  my  feet  are  sore  : 

I  fear  to  stay  but  can  move  no  more. 

A  form  I  see  with  my  bloodshot  eye, 

And  I  deem  that  my  lost  companion  is  nigh. 

My  weary  steps  to  his  side  I  bend  : 

Tis  a  ravening  lion  and  not  my  friend. 

I  am  a  sailor  •  my  vessel  sank, 

And  I  float  forlorn  on  a  single  plank. 

On  the  restless  wave  I  am  tossed  on  high 

And  low  in  the  depths  of  the. ocean  lie. 

A  light  skiff  near  me  comes  on  o'er  the  wave, 

And  my  heart  is  glad,  for  it  comes  to  save. 

Nearer  and  nearer  my  rescue  draws : 

Ah  !  'tis  a  shark  with  his  cruel  jaws. 

Ah  me  !  of  unfortunate  lovers  none 

Is  helpless  as  I  am,  ah  no,  not  one. 

My  heart  is  stolen,  my  lover  is  fled  : 

A  stone  lies  on  my  back  and  dust  on  my  head. 

O  Heaven  !  pity  my  many  woes 

And  a  door  of  hope,  in  thy  mercy,  unclose. 

If  Thou  wilt  not  bring  my  dear  love  to  my  side, 

0  save  me  from  being  another's  bride. 
Preserve  the  pure  name  of  the  hapless  maid, 
No  polluting  touch  on  her  vesture  laid. 

1  made  a  vow  to  my  lover,  mine  own, 
To  keep  my  love  ever  for  him  alone. 
Ah,  let  not  grief  my  poor  heart  consume, 
Nor  give  to  a  dragon  my  virgin  bloom." 

Thus  she  ceased  not  to  sigh  and  complain, 
And  tears  on  her  eyelashes  hung  like  rain. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  425 

Transfixed  with  anguish  her  young  heart  bled, 

And  low  in  the  dust  lay  her  beautiful  head. 

Then  the  Bird  of  Comfort 1  came  near,  and  there  fell 

On  her  ear  the  sweet  message  of  Gabriel : 

"  Lift  thy  head,  sad  maiden,  and  cease  to  repine, 

For  easy  shall  be  this  sore  burden  of  thine. 

The  Vizir  is  not  he  whom  thou  longest  to  gain, 

But  without  him  thy  wish  thou  canst  never  attain. 

Through  him  wilt  thou  look  on  thy  loved  one's  eyes, 

And  through  him  at  last  thou  wilt  win  the  prize." 

Zulaikha  heard,  and  in  grateful  trust 
Bowed  down  humbly  her  head  to  the  dust. 
She  ceased  from  weeping,  and  strove  like  a  bud 
To  drink  in  silence  her  own  heart's  blood. 
Fraught  with  deep  grief  was  each  breath  that  came, 
But  speechless  she  suffered  woe's  scorching  flame. 
Her  eyes,  though  eager,  must  look  and  wait, 
Till  the  knot  shall  be  loosed  by  the  hand  of  Fate. 

The  Reception. 

With  a  drum  of  gold  the  bright  firmament  beat 
At  morn  the  signal  for  night's  retreat. 
The  stars  with  the  night  at  the  coming  of  day 
Broke  up  their  assembly  and  passed  away. 
From  that  drum,  gold-scattering,  light  was  shed, 
Like  a  peacock's  glorious  plumes  outspread. 

In  princely  garb  the  Vizir  arrayed, 
Placed  in  her  litter  the  moon-bright  maid. 

1  Gabriel,  the  messenger  of  heaven. 


426  Jami. 

In  the  van,  in  the  rear,  on  every  side, 
He  ordered  his  soldiers  about  the  bride, 
And  golden  umbrellas  a  soft  shade  threw 
O'er  the  heads  of  Zulaikha's  retinue. 
The  singers'  voices  rang  loud  and  high, 
As  the  camels  moved  at  the  drivers'  cry, 
And  the  heaven  above,  and  below,  the  ground 
Echoed  afar  with  the  mingled  sound. 

Glad  were  the  maids  of  Zulaikha's  train 
That  their  lady  was  free  from  her  sorrow  and  pain ; 
And  the  prince  and  his  people  rejoiced  that  she 
The  idol  and  queen  of  his  house  should  be. 
Alone  in  her  litter  she  wept  her  woes, 
And  her  lamentation  to  Heaven  arose  : 
"  Why  hast  thou  treated  me  thus,  O  Fate, 
And  left  me  unhappy  and  desolate? 
For  what  sin  against  thee,  what  fault  of  mine, 
Hast  thou  left  me  hopeless  to  weep  and  pine? 
Thou  stolest  my  heart  in  a  dream,  like  a  thief, 
And  I  awoke  but  to  suffer  still  bitterer  grief. 
But  if  thou  hast  ruined  my  life,  mine  all, 
Why,  in  my  folly,  on  thee  do  I  call? 
Nay,  at  the  moment  when  help  was  near, 
Thou  hast  torn  me  from  home,  and  from  all  that  was 

dear. 
Beneath  the  weight  of  one  sorrow  I  bent, 
And  thou  addest  the  burden  of  banishment. 
If  thine  only  aid  is  to  rend  the  breast, 
Oh  !  what  must  she  feel  whom  thou  torturest ! 
Break  not  the  cup  of  my  patience,  nor  set, 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  427 

Again  to  ensnare  me,  thy  terrible  net. 
Thine  was  the  promise  that,  sorrows  passed, 
I  should  find  sweet  rest  for  my  soul  at  last. 
With  thy  word  of  comfort  I  fain  was  content ; 
But  is  this  the  rest  that  the  promise  meant?" 

Thus  Zulaikha,  weary  and  faint 
With  her  burden  of  sorrow,  poured  forth  her  plaint. 
Loud  rose  the  cry  of  the  host  meanwhile, 
"  Memphis  !  Memphis  !  the  Nile  !  the  Nile  !  " 
Horse  and  foot  onward  in  tumult  hied, 
And  rejoicing,  stood  on  the  river's  side. 

To  the  Grand  Vizir,  as  by  duty  taught, 
Trays  piled  high  with  treasures  they  brought, 
To  lade  the  bride's  litter  with  wealth  untold, 
Of  the  rarest  jewels  and  finest  gold. 
Each  brought  his  gift,  and  a  mighty  cry, 
Welcome  !  welcome  !  went  up  to  the  sky. 
On  the  head  of  Zulaikha  fell  pearl  in  showers 
As  the  rain  of  spring  on  the  opening  flowers 
Till  the  lady's  litter  beneath  a  heap 
Of  countless  jewels  was  buried  deep. 
Wherever  the  feet  of  the  camels  trod, 
They  trampled  jewels,  not  sand  or  sod. 
When  the  spark  leapt  forth  at  the  courser's  dint, 
The  shoe  and  the  ruby  were  steel  and  flint ; 
In  ranks  extended  o'er  many  a  mile, 
Still  scattering  jewels,  they  left  the  Nile, 
And  the  rain  of  pearl  from  their  hands  that  fell 
Made  each  fish's  gill  like  a  pearl-rich  shell, 
And  the  countless  derhams  they  cast  therein 


428  Jami. 

Made  the  crocodile  gleam  with  a  silver  skin. 

Thus  the  escort  in  proud  array, 
To  the  prince's  palace  pursued  their  way ; 
Nay,  'twas  an  earthly  paradise  ;  sun 
And  moon  in  their  splendor  were  here  outdone. 
In  the  midst  of  the  palace  was  set  a  throne, 
Fairest  of  all  that  the  world  has  known. 
The  hand  of  a  skilful  artist  had  made 
The  glorious  seat  with  fine  gems  o'erlaid. 
Close  to  the  throne  her  litter  was  placed, 
And  the  seat  by  that  jewel  of  ladies  graced. 
But  still  no  rest  to  her  sad  soul  came, 
The  gold  she  pressed  was  as  burning  flame. 
The  peerless  maiden  was  brighter  yet 
Than  the  throne  and  the  crown  on  her  forehead  set. 
But  the  glittering  crown  that  her  temples  pressed 
Increased  the  mountain  of  woe  in  her  breast ; 
They  showered  pearl  on  her  head  like  rain : 
It  tortured  her  heart  like  a  flood  of  pain. 
Pearls,  the  desire  of  the  maids  of  the  sky, 
Filled  with  the  pearls  of  her  tears  her  eye. 

In  the  battle  of  Love,  who  cares  for  a  crown, 
When  a  hundred  heads  to  the  dust  go  down? 
Who  for  the  loveliest  pearl  will  care, 
When  her  eye  is  damp  with  the  dew  of  despair? 
Shame  on  the  wretch  who  would  value  a  throne, 
When  his  love  is  lost,  and  he  pines  alone  ! 


Ynsuf  and  Zulaikha.  429 

Envy. 

Sages,  who  guided  the  pen  of  old, 
Thus  the  story  have  framed  and  told : 
As  Yusuf  in  stature  and  beauty  grew, 
His  father's  heart  to  himself  he  drew ; 
The  old  man  turned  from  the  rest  aside 
To  his  own  eye's  apple,  his  joy  and  pride ; 
And  to  him  such  kindness  and  favor  showed, 
That  the  hearts  of  his  brothers  with  envy  glowed. 
In  the  court  of  the  house  stood  an  ancient  tree 
Whose  leafy  branches  were  fair  to  see ; 
In  their  vesture  of  green  like  monks  the  sprays 
Danced  in  a  rapture  of  joy  and  praise  ; 
From  the  level  ground  of  the  court  it  grew, 
And  its  stately  height  a  long  shadow  threw ; 
Each  leaf  on  the  tree  was  a  vocal  tongue, 
Singing  a  hymn  as  the  branches  swung. 
To  heaven  rose  the  boughs  of  the  topmost  stem, 
Whose  birds  were  the  angels  who  rested  on  them, 
When  a  son  to  Jacob  by  God  was  given ; 
From  that  tree  that  rivalled  the  Lote  tree1  in  heaven, 
A  tender  branchlet  sprouted  anew, 
And  still  with  the  growth  of  the  infant  grew; 
And  when  the  boy  came  to  his  manhood  he 
Received  a  green  staff  from  the  honored  tree. 
But  for  Yusuf,  first  in  his  father's  eyes, 
A  staff  from  the  tree  were  too  mean  a  prize ; 

1  The  Sidrah  or  Lote  tree  is  the  seat  of  the  angel  Gabriel  in  Para- 
dise. 


430  J  ami. 

A  severed  bough  were  no  gift  for  one 
From  his  own  soul's  garden,  his  darling  son. 

One  night  the  boy  to  his  father  cried  : 
"  O  thou  whose  wishes  are  ne'er  denied, 
To  the  Lord  of  Paradise  offer  thy  prayer, 
And  win  me  a  staff  from  the  garden  there, 
That  whithersoever  my  feet  may  stray, 
From  youth  to  age  it  may  guide  my  way." 

Humbly  the  father  bowed  down  and  prayed, 
And  suit  to  the  Lord  for  his  darling  made. 
Then  Gabriel  came  from  the  Lote  tree's  height, 
A  topaz  staff  in  his  hand  shone  bright, 
That  never  had  suffered  a  wound  or  flaw 
From  the  axe  of  Time  or  from  Change's  saw, 
Precious  in  value,  but  light  to  wield, 
Splendid  with  hues  of  its  native  field. 
And  a  voice  was  heard  :  "  Take  the  staff  I  bring, 
Which  shall  prop,  as  a  pillar,  the  throne  of  a  king." 

Thus  Yusuf  by  Heaven  was  favored  and  blest ; 
But  envy  burnt  fierce  in  each  brother's  breast. 
A  hundred  wood  staves  were  a  lighter  load 
For  them  than  this  one  which  the  Lord  bestowed. 
Fell  fancy  wrought  in  each  bosom  apart, 
And  each  sowed  the  seed  of  deep  hate  in  his  heart 
He  nursed  the  seedling  with  tender  care, 
But  shame  was  the  fruit  which  the  tree  should  bear. 

Yusuf's  Dream. 

How  blest  is  he  who  can  close  his  eye 
And  let  the  vain  pageants  of  life  pass  by ; 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  43 1 

Untouched  by  the  magic  of  earth  can  keep 

His  soul  awake  while  the  senses  sleep  ; 

Scorn  the  false  and  the  fleeting  that  meets  the  view, 

And  see  what  is  hidden  and  firm  and  true. 

Before  the  eyes  of  his  sire  one  night, 
Who  loved  him  more  than  his  own  eyesight, 
Yusuf  his  head  on  a  pillow  laid, 
And  slept  while  a  smile  on  his  sweet  mouth  played. 
But  the  heart  of  Jacob  was  troubled  while 
On  that  sleeping  face  he  beheld  the  smile. 
When,  damp  with  the  dew  of  their  soft  repose, 
Those  eyes  of  narcissus  began  to  unclose, 
And,  like  his  own  fortune,  the  boy  was  awake. 
Thus  to  his  darling  the  father  spake : 
u  Why,  O  sweeter  than  sugar,  didst  thou 
Wear  a  sugar-sweet  smile  on  thy  lip  but  now?" 
And  Yusuf  answered  :  "  Father,  I  dreamed, 
And  the  sun  and  moon  and  eleven  stars  seemed 
To  gather  about  me,  high  honor  to  pay, 
And  their  heads  before  me  in  dust  to  lay." 
"  Beware,"  said  the  father,  "  my  son,  beware; 
Thy  secret  vision  to  none  declare. 
Let  not  thy  brothers  the  story  know  : 
In  a  hundred  ways  they  would  work  thee  woe. 
With  hatred  and  envy  their  heart  is  stirred  ; 
They  would  hate  thee  more  if  the  tale  were  heard. 
The  thought  of  this  dream  they  would  ne'er  endure, 
For  the  meaning  thereof  is  too  clear  and  sure." 
Thus,  in  his  prudence  the  father  spoke ; 
But  Fate  the  chain  of  his  counsel  broke. 


432  Jami. 

One  with  whom  Yusuf  the  secret  shared, 

To  all  the  brothers  the  tale  declared. 

The  secret  that  passes  beyond  a  pair, 

Is  bruited  abroad  on  the  moving  air. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  sage,  "  but  that  pair  are  the  lips, 

And  no  secret  is  that  which  beyond  them  slips." 

The  fury  of  carnage  has  oft  been  stirred, 

And  nobles  have  died  for  a  spoken  word. 

Wise  is  the  saw  of  the  sage  who  said, 

"Who  heeds  his  secret  will  keep  his  head." 

When  the  wild  bird  flies  from  her  cage,  in  vain 

Will  ye  follow  her  flight  to  ensnare  her  again. 

When  the  tale  to  the  ears  of  the  brothers  came, 

They  rent  their  garments  with  hearts  aflame  : 

"What  ails  our  father,"  they  cried,  "that  he 

His  loss  and  advantage  should  fail  to  see? 

What  can  come  of  a  foolish  boy 

But  the  childish  play  that  is  all  his  joy? 

He  works  on  all  with  deceit  and  lies, 

And  raises  his  value  in  folly's  eyes. 

Our  aged  father  his  wiles  ensnare, 

And  life  with  him  will  be  hard  to  bear. 

He  rends  the  bond  of  affection  apart, 

And  engrosses  the  love  of  our  father's  heart. 

Not  content  with  the  favor  his  arts  have  gained, 

He  wishes  that  we,  pure-hearted,  unstained, 

Should  bend  our  heads  and  adore  in  the  dust 

The  stripling  raised  high  by  his  father's  trust ; 

Nay,  father  and  mother,  as  well  as  we  : 

What  will  the  end  of  this  madness  be  ? 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  433 

We,  not  this  boy,  are  our  father's  friends  ; 

On  us,  not  on  him,  his  welfare  depends. 

On  the  hills  in  the  daytime  we  guard  his  sheep, 

And  our  nightly  watch  in  his  house  we  keep. 

Our  arm  protects  him  from  foemen's  might, 

And  we,  mid  his  friends,  are  his  glory  and  light. 

What  is  there  in  him  but  his  guile  that  thus 

His  head  is  exalted  o'er  all  of  us? 

Come,  let  us  counsel  together  and  plot 

To  drive  him  away  to  a  distant  spot. 

Ne'er  has  he  felt  for  our  griefs  and  pains, 

And  banishment  now  the  sole  cure  remains. 

Quick  to  the  task  we  must  needs  away  ! 

Still  it  is  left  us  to  choose  the  way. 

The  thorn  that  springs  fast  for  mischief  should  be 

Torn  up  from  the  root  ere  it  grow  to  a  tree." 

The  Plot. 

When  Yusuf  s  brothers,  with  hatred  fired, 

Against  the  innocent  boy  conspired, 

Said  one  :  "  Our  hearts  in  our  sorrow  have  bled, 

And  his  blood  should  flow  for  the  blood  he  has  shed. 

When  the  arm  of  the  slayer  is  lifted  to  smite, 

Can  ye  save  your  lives  by  a  timely  flight? 

Let  him  die  the  death,  and  our  task  is  sped  : 

There  comes  no  voice  from  the  lip  of  the  dead." 

"  Nay,"  cried  a  second,  "  'tis  not  for  us 

To  compass  the  death  of  the  guiltless  thus. 

Though  we  check  his  folly,  he  may  not  bleed ; 


434  Jami. 

We  hold,  remember,  ^he  one  true  creed. 

We  shall  gain  our  end  if  we  drive  him  hence 

As  well  as  by  death-dealing  violence. 

Let  us  hide  him  far  from  our  father's  eyes 

Where  a  wild  and  desolate  valley  lies ; 

In  a  waste  full  of  pitfalls,  from  help  afar, 

Where  the  ravenous  wolves  and  the  foxes  are ; 

His  only  water  the  tears  of  despair, 

And  his  only  bread  the  sun's  scorching  glare ; 

Where  the  night  around  him  for  shade  shall  spread, 

And  thorns  be  the  pillow  to  rest  his  head. 

He  may  linger  awhile  neath  the  lonely  sky, 

But  soon  of  himself  he  will  waste  and  die, 

Not  a  stain  of  his  blood  on  our  swords,  and  we 

From  the  sword  of  his  guile  and  deceit  shall  be  free. 

"  Nay,  this,  my  brother,"  a  third  broke  in, 

"  Were  the  worst  of  murders  and  grievous  sin. 

Tis  better  to  perish,  if  die  we  must, 

Not  of  hunger  and  thirst,  but  a  dagger's  thrust. 

This  is  my  counsel,  which  seems  more  fit, 

To  search  near  and  far  for  a  deep  dark  pit, 

And  therein,  cast  down  from  his  place  of  pride, 

In  sorrow  and  darkness  the  youth  to  hide. 

Some  travelling  merchants  may  pass  that  way, 

And  halt  at  the  well  at  the  close  of  day. 

They  may  lower  for  water  a  bucket  and  cord, 

And  the  boy  to  the  air  will  be  thus  restored. 

Some  merchant  who  looks  on  the  prize  will  be  glad 

To  take  for  a  son  or  a  slave  the  lad, 

Who,  carried  away  to  a  distant  place, 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikba.  435 

Will  vex  us  no  longer  with  pain  and  disgrace." 

Soon  as  he  spoke  of  this  living  grave, 
The  brothers  approved  of  the  counsel  he  gave. 
Unheeding  the  pit  of  their  murderous  thought, 
The  pit  of  dishonor  they  wildly  sought. 
In  their  evil  purpose  they  all  agreed 
The  heart  of  their  father  to  wound  and  mislead. 
Then  to  their  labor  they  turned,  each  one ; 
And  the  morrow  was  fixed  for  the  deed  to  be  done. 

Deceit. 

Blest  are  the  souls  who  are  lifted  above 

The  paltry  cares  of  a  selfish  love  ; 

And  conquering  sense  and  its  earthly  ties, 

Are  dust  in  the  path  of  the  love  they  prize ; 

Who  add  no  weight  to  another's  care, 

And  no  weight  of  reproach  from  another  bear, 

But  in  this  sad  world  are  resigned  to  their  lot, 

Support  their  brethren  and  murmur  not ; 

Who  sleep  with  no  malice  or  fraud  in  their  breast, 

And  rise  as  pure  from  their  welcome  rest. 

The  foes  of  Yusuf  came  glad  and  gay 
As  they  thought  of  the  counsel  of  yesterday, 
With  love  on  their  tongue,  in  their  heart  fraud  and 

lies, 
Like  wolves  that  have  taken  the  lamb's  disguise, 
In  reverent  duty  their  father  to  see, 
And  bowed  them  down  on  the  bended  knee. 
They  opened  the  flattering  door  of  deceit, 


436  Jami. 

And  the  words  they  uttered  were  soft  and  sweet. 
They  spoke  awhile  of  things  old  and  new, 
And  near  and  more  near  to  their  object  drew : 
"  Father,  we  weary  of  resting  at  home  ; 
Through  the  plain  around  us  we  fain  would  roam. 
If  thou  wilt  grant  the  permission  we  pray, 
Hence  will  we  wander  at  break  of  day. 
Our  brother  Yusuf,  the  light  of  thine  eyes, 
Knows  not  the  region  which  round  us  lies. 
Wilt  thou  not  send  him  with  us  ?     Our  joy 
Will  be  great  to  attend  on  thy  darling  boy. 
He  stays  in  the  house  through  the  weary  day : 
Send  him  out  with  us  to  rove  and  play. 
Through  the  field  and  the  plain  his  steps  we  will  guide, 
Up  to  the  slope  and  the  steep  hill's  side. 
We  will  milk  the  ewes  in  the  grassy  field, 
And  drink  with  delight  the  sweet  draught  they  yield. 
Through  beds  of  tulips  our  way  will  pass, 
And  our  playground  will  be  the  carpet  of  grass. 
We  will  steal  the  bright  crowns  of  the  tulips,  and  set 
Their  bloom  on  his  brow  for  a  coronet, 
And  the  boy  thus  decked  we  will  gently  lead 
In  his  graceful  gait  through  the  flowery  mead. 
We  will  watch  the  herds  of  the  browsing  deer, 
And  the  wolf  shall  be  slain  if  he  venture  near. 
Perchance  the  fresh  scene  will  his  spirit  restore, 
And  the  dulness  of  home  will  oppress  him  no  more. 
Set  a  thousand  marvels  before  a  child, 
Still  only  by  play  is  his  heart  beguiled." 
The  father  heard  as  their  suit  they  pressed, 


Yusuf  ami  Zulaikha.  437 

But  turned  away  and  refused  their  request. 

"  Wrfy  should  he  follow  you?  "  thus  he  spake  ; 

"  My  heart  is  sad  for  my  darling's  sake. 

I  fear  lest,  eager  and  reckless,  ye 

The  perils  about  him  may  fail  to  see. 

I  fear  lest  a  wolf  from  the  neighboring  waste 

Should  sharpen  his  teeth  the  boy's  blood  to  taste  ; 

Should  tear  with  keen  fangs  each  delicate  limb, 

And  rend  my  soul  as  he  mangles  him." 

Thus  was  their  suit  by  the  father  denied  : 
Again  to  move  him  their  arts  they  tried  : 
"  Think  us  not,  father,  such  feeble  men 
That  a  single  wolf  can  o'ermatch  the  ten. 
We  can  seize,  as  we  seize  a  fox,  and  slay 
A  lion  making  of  men  his  prey." 

Thus  they  insisted.     The  father  heard  : 
He  gave  no  refusal,  he  spoke  no  word. 
But  his  will  at  last  by  their  prayers  was  bent, 
And  woe  brought  on  his  house  by  his  silent  consent. 

The  Well. 

Shame,  conjuring  Heaven,  whose  fell  delight 
Is  to  bury  each  morn  a  fair  moon  from  sight ! 
Who  givest  for  prey  to  the  wolf  the  gazelle 
That  browses  at  ease  in  life's  flowery  dell. 

When  Yusuf  in  charge  to  those  wolves  was  given, 
"See,  they  harry  a  lamb,"  cried  pitiless  Heaven. 
While  yet  in  the  ken  of  their  father's  eyes, 
Each  strove,  as  in  love,  to  be  nearest  the  prize. 
One  raised  him  high  on  his  back,  and  round 


438  Jami. 

His  waist  another  his  strong  arm  wound. 

But  the  touch  of  each  hand  was  more  rough  and  4ude 

When  they  came  to  the  desert  of  solitude. 

From  the  shoulder  of  pity  the  burden  they  threw, 

Where  the  flint-stones  were  hard,  and  the  sharp  thorns 

grew. 
Through  the  pitiless  briers  he  walked  unshod, 
His  rosy  feet  rent  by  the  spines  where  he  trod, 
As  he  walked  barefooted  by  thistle  and  thorn, 
The  silver  skin  of  his  hand  was  torn. 
The  tender  soles  of  his  young  feet  bled, 
And,  soft  as  the  rose,  like  the  rose  were  red. 
If  he  lingered  a  moment  behind  the  band, 
One  smote  his  fair  cheek  with  a  ruthless  hand. 
May  the  vengeful  sword  on  the  fierce  hand  fall 
Which  struck  the  fair  face  which  is  loved  of  all ! 
If  he  walked  before  them  they  rained  their  blows 
On  his  neck  like  a  rebel's  till  red  wheals  rose. 
May  each  hand  be  bound  to  the  neck  with  a  chain, 
That  gave  his  soft  neck  that  unmerited  pain  ! 
If  he  walked  abreast  in  his  trembling  fear, 
Hard  hands  on  each  side  of  him  pulled  his  ear. 
May  the  savage  have  naught  but  his  fingers  to  clasp, 
Who  could  hold  that  ear  in  his  merciless  grasp  ! 
When  he  clung  to  one's  skirt  with  a  loud  lament, 
He  was  flung  aside,  and  his  collar  rent. 
When  he  lay  at  their  feet  in  his  utter  dread, 
They  laughed  as  their  cruel  feet  pressed  on  his  head. 
When  his  pale  lips  uttered  a  bitter  cry, 
With  jeer  and  reproach  came  the  harsh  reply. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  439 

In  the  depth  of  despair  with  wild  words  he  complained, 

And  the  rose  of  his  cheek  like  the  tulip  was  stained. 

Now  in  the  dust,  now  in  blood  the  boy  lay, 

And  heartbroken  cried  in  his  utter  dismay : 

"  Where  art  thou,  my  father,  where  art  thou  ?     Why 

Wilt  thou  heedlessly  leave  me  to  suffer  and  die? 

See  the  son  of  her  whom  thou  lovedst  so  well ; 

See  those  who  against  wisdom  and  duty  rebel. 

What  their  hearts  have  devised  for  thy  heart's  love,  see, 

And  how  they  repay  obligation  to  thee. 

From  the  ground  of  thy  soul  a  young  rosebud  grew, 

And  thy  tender  love  fed  it  and  nursed  it  with  dew. 

By  anguish  and  thirst  it  lies  withered  and  dried, 

Its  life  is  departing,  its  bright  hues  have  died. 

In  a  garden  kept  with  each  loving  device, 

Was  planted  a  scion  of  Paradise. 

By  the  blast  of  oppression  the  plant  is  o'erthrown, 

By  the  thorn  and  the  thistle  its  height  overgrown. 

The  moon  whose  fair  light  for  thy  guidance  was  shed, 

Which  the  dark  gloom  of  fate  ever  failed  to  o'erspread, 

Has  suffered  such  hardship  from  Heaven  on  high, 

That  it  prays  the  new  moon  its  faint  light  to  supply." 

Onward  thus  for  a  league  they  went, 
He  longing  for  peace,  they  on  slaughter  bent. 
He  was  all  tenderness,  they  were  stern ; 
His  prayers  were  warm,  their  words  cold  in  return. 
They  came  at  last  to  a  well  where  they 
Rested  awhile  from  the  toil  of  the  way. 
Like  the  grave  of  a  tyrant,  deep,  dark  as  night, 
It  struck  with  horror  the  reason's  sight. 


440  Jami. 

Like  the  mouth  of  a  dragon  its  black  jaws  gaped  — 

A  terrible  portal  whence  none  escaped. 

A  tyrant's  dungeon  was  not  so  deep, 

Where  deadly  snakes  o'er  the  prisoner  creep. 

The  depth  was  too  deep  for  the  reach  of  sense, 

And  wide  was  its  horror's  circumference. 

Dire  was  the  centre,  the  circle  despair : 

The  spring  was  bitter  and  poison  the  air. 

For  living  creature  to  draw  a  breath 

In  that  terrible  pit  were  his  instant  death. 

No  depths  could  be  found  better  suited  to  quell 

That  rosy-cheeked  moon  than  that  horrible  well. 

Once  more  he  endeavoured  to  move  them  ;  again 
Sought  to  touch  their  hard  hearts  in  so  soothing  a  strain 
That,  could  it  have  heard  his  sweet  pleading,  a  stone 
Softer  than  wax  in  its  fibres  had  grown. 
But  the  heart  of  each  brother  grew  harder  still, 
More  firm  the  resolve  of  each  murderous  will. 
How  shall  I  tell  it  ?     My  heart  grows  weak  ; 
Of  the  deed  they  accomplished  I  scarce  can  speak. 
On  that  delicate  arm  for  which,  soft  and  fair, 
The  silk  of  heaven  were  too  rough  to  wear, 
They  firmly  fastened  a  goat-hair  cord 
Whose  every  hair  seemed  a  piercing  sword. 
A  woollen  rope  round  his  delicate  waist 
Fine  as  a  hair  was  securely  braced. 
His  coat  from  his  beautiful  shoulders  had  slipped, 
And  he  stood  like  a  rose  when  her  leaves  are  stripped. 
So  they  rent  the  robe  of  their  honor  away, 
And  clothed  them  with  shame  till  the  Judgment  Day. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikba.  441 

They  lowered  him  down  in  the  deep  dark  well, 
And  sunk  in  the  water  half-way  he  fell. 
Down  into  darkness  by  Fate  was  hurled 
The  sun  that  illumined  the  whole  wide  world. 

But  a  stone  jutting  out  from  the  rocky  side, 
Above  the  water  a  seat  supplied. 
That  humble  stone,  as  high  Fate  ordained, 
A  value  greater  than  rubies  gained. 
The  bitter  water  beneath  his  feet 
At  the  sight  of  that  ruby,  his  lip,  grew  sweet. 
The  well  shone  with  the  splendor  his  fair  cheek  shed, 
Like  the  face  of  the  earth  with  the  moon  o'erhead. 
The  fragrance  that  breathed  from  his  flowing  hair 
Purged  of  its  poison  the  deadly  air, 
And  snakes  and  venomous  creatures  fled 
From  his  radiant  face  and  the  light  it  spread. 

A  shirt  in  an  amulet  round  him  slung, 
Which  had  saved  his  grandsire  from  the  flame,  was 

hung; 
To  Abraham  sent  by  Rizvan,1  when  the  flame 
Like  a  garden  of  roses  about  him  became. 
From  the  Sidra  tree  Gabriel  came  in  haste, 
And  the  heavenly  gift  from  his  arm  embraced. 
The  precious  shirt  from  within  he  drew, 
And  o'er  that  pure  body  the  garment  threw. 
Then  spoke  the  angel :  "  Lone  mourner,  see, 


1  Abraham  was  by  the  order  of  Nimrod  thrown  into  the  fire.  He 
wore  a  silken  shirt,  sent  to  him  from  Heaven,  and  the  flame  turned 
into  a  bed  of  roses.  The  shirt  was  transmitted  through  Isaac  and 
Jacob  to  Yusuf.     Rizvan  is  the  porter  of  Paradise. 


442  Jami. 

The  Eternal  Himself  sends  a  message  to  thee : 

'  The  day  is  nigh  when  I  bring  that  band, 

Who  in  false-hearted  malice  thy  death  have  planned, 

Before  thy  presence  to  bend  and  bow 

With  hearts  deeper  wounded  than  thine  is  now. 

Then  recall  to  thy  brothers  their  crime  and  shame, 

But  keep  from  their  knowledge  thy  story  and  name/  " 

The  words  of  Gabriel  cheered  his  heart, 
And  bade  his  sorrow  and  pain  depart. 
In  calm  content  on  the  jutting  stone 
He  sate  like  a  king  on  his  royal  throne, 
While  the  faithful  angel,  if  grief  should  stir 
The  heart  of  the  boy,  was  a  minister. 

The   Caravan. 

Blest  was  the  lot  of  the  caravan 

From  which,  when  he  thirsted  at  eve,  a  man 

From  that  well  in  the  desert  his  bucket  drew, 

And  brought  unburied  the  moon  to  view ; 

Which  three  days  in  the  depth  had  been  forced  to 

dwell 
Like  the  moon  of  Nakhshab1  in  Nakhshab's  well. 

On  the  fourth  bright  morn  when  the  Yusuf  of  day2 
Arose  from  the  gulf  where  entombed  he  lay, 
There  came  by  good  fortune  a  caravan, 
Passing  to  Egypt  from  Midian. 

1  The  "  Veiled  Prophet  of  Khorasan  "  is  said  to  have  caused  a 
luminous  body  like  the  moon  to  rise  out  of  a  well  at  Nakhshab  in 
Turkestan. 

2  The  sun. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikba.  443 

By  the  weary  length  of  the  way  distressed 

They  halted  there  and  unloaded  to  rest. 

High  fate  was  theirs  to  have  wandered  far 

And  found  Yusuf  himself  for  a  guiding  star. 

The  weary  merchants  halted,  and  first 

To  the  well  they  hastened  to  quench  their  thirst. 

Happy  was  he  who  most  speedily  pressed 

To  that  Water  of  Life  and  outstripped  the  rest, 

And,  a  second  Khizar1  of  high  renown, 

Sent  through  the  darkness  his  bucket  down. 

Then  Gabriel  called  to  Yusuf,  "  Shed 

The  water  of  grace  on  the  world,"  he  said. 

"  Take  thy  seat  in  the  bucket  a  brighter  sun, 

And  from  west  to  east  in  thy  swift  course  run. 

Thine  horizon  shall  be  the  well's  circular  brim, 

And  shall  ne'er,  while  thou  shinest,  be  dark  or  dim. 

Send  forth  a  beam  from  thy  face,  and  through 

The  whole  wide  world  light  shall  shine  anew." 

Then  Yusuf  sprang  from  the  stone,  and  fleet 

As  water  took  in  the  bucket  his  seat. 

A  strong  man  drew  it,  one  skilled  to  say 

What  the  water  he  drew  from  a  well  should  weigh. 

"  What  may  there  be  in  the  bucket  beside 

The  water  that  makes  it  so  heavy?"  he  cried. 

When  that  moon  appeared,  from  his  happy  soul 

Burst  a  cry  of  rapture"  beyond  control : 

"  O  joy,  that  so  lovely  a  moon  to  illume 
The  world  should  arise  from  the  depth  of  gloom, 

1  The  prophet  Khizar,  or  Elijah,  is  the  guardian  of  the  Water  of 
Life. 


444  Jami. 

And  out  of  the  bitterest  spring  a  stream 
Of  light  and  glory  should  suddenly  gleam  !  " 

So  for  him  grew  a  rose  in  that  desolate  spot ; 
But  he  to  his  fellows  revealed  it  not. 
To  the  place  where  he  rested  the  youth  he  bare, 
And  gave  him  in  charge  to  his  people  there. 
Unworthy  his  lot  is  the  man,  unwise, 
Who  hides  not  his  treasure  from  envious  eyes. 

But  the  brothers  had  lingered  not  far  from  the  wel15 
And  they  burned  in  their  hearts  to  know  what  befell ; 
They  saw  the  merchants  arrive  and  stood 
Waiting  for  news  in  the  neighborhood. 
To  Yusuf  they  called  with  a  secret  cry, 
But  a  hollow  echo  came  back  in  reply. 
To  the  caravan  with  quick  steps,  intent 
On  claiming  the  boy  as  their  slave,  they  went, 
And  with  toil  and  labor  they  made  their  way 
Within  the  ring  where  the  merchants  lay. 
"This  is  our  slave,"  as  they  touched  him,  they  cried; 
"  The  collar  of  service  his  hand  has  untied. 
The  bonds  of  his  duty  were  loosened,  and  he 
From  the  yoke  of  his  masters  has  dared  to  flee. 
Though  born  in  our  house  we  will  gladly  sell 
The  idle  boy  who  will  never  do  well. 
When  a  slave  is  negligent,  idle,  perverse, 
Ever  growing  from  bad  to  worse, 
'Tis  better  to  sell  him,  though  small  the  price, 
Than  suffer  still  from  his  rooted  vice. 
We  will  labor  no  more  to  improve  the  wretch, 
But  sell  him  at  once  for  the  price  he  may  fetch." 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  445 

He  was  sold  for  a  trifle  to  him  whose  cord 
Had  brought  him  up  to  the  light  restored. 
Malik  —  so  named  was  the  merchant  —  gave 
A  few  pieces  for  Yusuf  as  household  slave. 
Then  the  traders  arising  their  march  renewed, 
And  onward  to  Egypt  their  way  pursued. 

Woe  unto  those  who  that  treasure  sold, 
And  bartered  their  souls  for  some  paltry  gold  ! 
No  life,  nor  the  treasures  of  Egypt,  could  buy 
One  word  from  his  lip  or  one  glance  from  his  eye. 
Only  Jacob  his  sire  and  Zulaikha,  the  true, 
The  priceless  worth  of  that  treasure  knew. 
But  his  worth  was  unknown  to  those  blinded  eyes, 
And  they  took  a  few  pence  for  the  blessed  prize. 

The   King. 

Thus  Malik  gained  with  no  labor  the  prize 
That  fell  to  his  fortunate  merchandise. 
Such  joy  in  the  sight  of  his  purchase  he  found 
That  scarcely  his  foot  seemed  to  touch  the  ground. 
With  the  hope  that  was  in  him  his  heart  was  gay, 
And  with  double  marches  he  sped  on  his  way. 

Ere  to  the  city  of  Memphis  he  came, 
The  story  was  bruited  abroad  by  fame  : 
"  Malik  returns  from  his  journey  this  morn 
With  a  slave  of  the  race  of  the  Hebrews  born  : 
A  moon  in  the  zenith  of  beauty,  above 
All  others  a  king  in  the  realm  of  love. 
In  the  picture-house  of  the  earth  the  skies 


446  Jami. 

Have  not  seen  his  peer  with  their  thousand  eyes." 

The  King  of  Egypt  the  rumor  heard, 

And  the  heart  within  him  was  strangely  stirred : 

"  Is  not  Egypt  the  garden  of  beauty?     Where 

Can  the  eye  see  roses  so  bright  and  fair? 

The  roses  of  heaven  would  droop  from  their  stem 

And  hide  their  shamed  heads  in  the  dust  before  them.' 

Then  he  cried  in  haste  to  the  Grand  Vizir : 

"  Go,  meet  the  merchants  whose  train  is  near, 
Go  forth  this  moon  of  rare  beauty  to  see, 
And  lead  him  straight  to  my  court  with  thee." 

The  noble  obeyed  ;  the  merchants  he  met, 
And  his  eyes  on  that  joy  of  the  soul  were  set. 
At  the  sight  of  that  beauty  his  senses  fled, 
And  he  fain  would  lie  down  in  obeisance  his  head. 
But  Yusuf  raised  him  as  lowly  he  bent, 
And  chid  the  obeisance  he  might  not  prevent : 
"  Bow  down  thy  head  to  none  living  beside 
Him  who  set  that  head  on  thy  neck,"  he  cried. 

He  called  for  Malik  and  bade  him  bring 
The  beautiful  slave  to  the  court  of  the  king. 
But  Malik  answered  :  "  We  thought  not  yet 
In  the  monarch's  palace  our  feet  to  set. 
We  are  weary  and  worn  with  the  length  of  the  way, 
And  crave  of  thy  kindness  some  rest  and  delay. 
With  wakeful  nights  and  with  hunger  distressed 
We  need  three  days  to  recruit  and  rest. 
We  will  wash  off  the  dust,  and  refreshed  after  toil, 
Will  wait  on  the  king  without  spot  and  soil." 

The  Grand  Vizir  gave  his  ready  consent, 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  447 

And  again  to  the  king  and  his  duties  went. 

Of  the  beauty  of  Yusuf  he  spoke  but  a  word, 

Yet  the  king's  jealous  heart  at  the  story  was  stirred. 

He  gave  command,  and  they  picked  and  chose, 

As  ye  cull  from  a  rose-bed  each  fairest  rose, 

The  most  beautiful  boys  that  the  land  possessed, 

In  the  kingdom  of  beauty  kings  over  the  rest : 

With  dainty  caps  bright  with  glittering  gold, 

And  shawls  of  brocade  round  their  shoulders  to  fold  : 

With  a  jewelled  girdle  round  each  fine  waist, 

And  gay  lips  sweeter  than  sugar  to  taste ; 

That  when  Yusuf's  owner  should  spread  the  tale 

Of  his  marvellous  beauty,  and  bring  him  for  sale, 

They  to  the  market  should  come  and  display 

Their  fair  forms  and  features  in  rival  array. 

Then  were  he  the  sun,  their  more  beauty  would  dim 

His  splendor,  and  chill  the  demand  for  him. 

The  Bath. 

Past  were  the  promised  three  days,  and  on 

The  blue  heaven  of  the  Nile  l  the  sun  Yusuf  shone. 

"  O  world-adorner,"  said  Malik,  "  awhile 

Light  with  thy  splendor  the  bank  of  the  Nile. 

Bathe  in  the  stream,  and  the  waters  shall  flee 

More  bright  with  the  dust  they  shall  borrow  from  thee." 

That  sun  of  beauty  the  order  obeyed  : 
Alone  on  the  bank  of  the  flood  he  strayed. 

1  The  Persian  word  nil  signifies  both  "  blue  "  and  "  Nile."    Jami 
frequently  plays  upon  the  two  meanings  of  the  word. 


448  Jami. 

His  cap  of  bright  gold  he  removed  from  his  head, 

And  his  raven  locks  to  the  sun  dispread ; 

He  threw  off  his  robe,  and  his  limbs  were  bare 

Like  the  moon  that  shines  through  the  cloudless  air; 

And  his  neck  and  shoulders  were  tinged  with  a  flush 

Like  the  first  faint  hue  of  the  morning's  blush. 

A  bathing-robe  round  his  waist  he  tied, 

And  the  cypress  of  silver  hung  o'er  the  stream's  side. 

The  voice  of  the  heavens  cried  :  "  Blest,  O  blest 

Is  the  bank  of  the  Nile  which  his  feet  have  pressed. 

Ah,  if  in  the  place  of  the  flood  I  might  kiss 

Those  delicate  feet,  how  supreme  were  the  bliss  ! 

Nay,  the  sun  would  bend   down  from  his  noonday 

height, 
And  give  the  glad  waters  his  fountain  of  light. 
Yet  he  heeds  not  that  fountain  of  splendor,  but  laves 
The  dust  from  his  limbs  in  the  turbid  waves." 

He  entered  the  river,  awhile  to  shine 
In  the  stream  like  the  sun  in  the  Watery  Sign. 
He  dipped  the  fair  face  that  was  bright  as  a  sun, 
As  the  lotus  dips  where  the  sweet  waters  run. 
He  struck  the  waves  with  each  naked  limb, 
And  the  waters  lived  at  the  touch  of  him. 
He  loosened  the  chains  of  his  hair  while  the  fleet 
Stream  made  a  chain  for  his  silver  feet, 
And  to  capture  the  spoil  of  the  river  he  set 
From  the  moon  to  the  Fish  1  a  fine  amber-sweet  net. 


1  That  is,  from  above  the  earth  to  under  it,  with  an  allusion  also 
to  the  fish  in  the  river.  The  earth  is  said  to  rest  on  Gau  or  the 
Bull,  and  Gau  on  Mahi  or  the  Fish. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  449 

Now  a  stream  from  his  hand  on  his  beautiful  head, 

Like  the  Pleiades  decking  the  moon,  was  shed. 

Now  he  rubbed  the  rose  where  the  big  drops  lay, 

Now  combed  with  his  fingers  the  spikenard  spray.1 

Then  pure  from  all  dust  of  the  journey  he 

Rose  up  on  the  bank  like  a  cypress-tree. 

Then  he  put  on  his  raiment :  the  rose  of  his  skin 

Was  enhanced  by  the  white  of  the  jessamine.2 

About  his  body  his  coat  he  drew, 

Worked  with  fine  fancy  of  many  a  hue. 

A  gold-bright  cap  on  his  brow  he  placed, 

And  girt  with  a  zone  rich  with  jewels  his  waist. 

Loose  hung  his  ambrosial  tresses,  and  lent 

To  the  breezes  of  Egypt  the  breath  of  their  scent. 

Again  in  his  litter  the  youth  was  placed, 
And  they  drove  to  the  court  of  the  king  in  haste. 
There  in  front  of  the  palace  gate 
High  on  a  throne  was  the  king  in  state, 
And  the  fairest  boys  of  the  realm  stood  near 
Expecting  when  Yusuf  himself  should  appear, 
And  a  thousand  eyes  to  the  litter  flew 
As  near  to  the  throne  of  the  king  it  drew. 
It  chanced  the  clouds  in  their  dense  array 
Hid  the  light  of  the  sun  that  day. 
Then  Malik  gave  order  to  Yusuf :  "  Spring 
From  the  litter  and  come  to  the  throne  of  the  king. 
Cast  the  veil  from  thy  face,  for  a  sun  art  thou, 
And  the  world  shall  be  gay  with  the  light  of  thy  brow." 

i  His  hair. 
2  His  shirt. 


450  Jami. 

He  spoke  ;  and  the  lovely  boy  sprang  to  the  ground, 
And  shot  sunlike  rays  on  the  circle  round. 
"  'Tis  the  blessed  sun,"  thought  the  wondering  crowd, 
"  That   has  come   from   the  screen  of  his  dark   blue 

cloud." 
But  they  turned  their  eyes  to  the  sun,  and  knew 
It  was  not  his  rays  that  the  splendor  threw, 
For  the  dark  cloud  still  o'er  the  sun  was  spread. 
And  the  face  of  Yusuf  the  radiance  shed. 
They  clapped  their  hands,  and  on  every  side 
Rose  up  a  murmur  of  voices  that  cried  : 
"  What,  O  Heaven,  is  the  brilliant  star 
Outshining  the  sun  and  the  moon  by  far?" 
And  the  darlings  of  Egypt  looked  down  disgraced 
As  they  saw  their  beauty  by  his  effaced. 
When  the  sun  shines  forth  in  his  splendor,  where 
Is  the  faintest  star  in  the  Lesser  Bear? 

Recognition. 

Ne'er  had  it  entered  Zulaikha's  heart 

That  one  stage  kept  herself  and  her  darling  apart. 

But  a  secret  impulse  at  work  in  her  breast 

Filled  her  with  longing  and  wild  unrest. 

She  strove  to  calm  it,  and  knew  not  whence 

Came  the  hidden  yearning  that  moved  each  sense. 

She  roamed  in  the  meadow  for  change  and  relief, 

For  the  house  seemed  a  dungeon  of  care  and  grief. 

But  still  each  day  was  weary  and  slow, 

And  she  gnashed  her  teeth  in  her  depth  of  woe. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  451 

She  gathered  all  luxuries  round  her  in  vain, 

For  each  moment  that  passed  but  increased  her  pain. 

Her  fountain  of  tears  was  outvvept,  and  her  mind 

To  change  once  more  and  to  home  inclined. 

Again  in  her  litter  the  lady  lay 

And  hastened  back  on  her  homeward  way. 

On  her  journey  homeward  Zulaikha  sped, 

And  her  road  by  the  gate  of  the  palace  led. 

And  she  asked,  as  the  press  of  people  she  viewed, 

If  Doomsday  had  gathered  the  multitude. 

One  made  answer  and  said  to  her  :  "  Nay, 

A  youth  from  Canaan  is  here  to-day : 

No  slave  is  he,  but  a  splendid  sun, 

In  the  kingdom  of  beauty  the  brightest  one." 

She  raised  the  curtain,  her  glances  fell 
On  the  form  and  features  she  knew  so  well. 
A  long  sigh  burst  from  her  heart  as  she  lay 
Back  in  her  litter,  her  senses  astray. 
Home  with  their  lady  the  servants  pressed ; 
In  her  secret  chamber  they  laid  her  to  rest. 
Again  the  light  in  her  sad  eyes  burned, 
And  her  senses,  lost  in  her  swoon,  returned. 
"  Say,  light  of  my  soul,"  cried  the  nurse,  "  say  why 
From  thy  troubled  breast  came  that  bitter  sigh. 
What  reft  thy  senses  away  ?     What  woes 
Made  thy  sweet  lips  with  a  cry  unclose?" 
"  Dear  mother,"  she  said,  "  what  reply  can  I  make  ? 
At  each  word  I  say  must  my  bosom  ache. 
Thou  sawest  that' youth  in  the  midst  of  the  press, 
While  the  people  were  praising  his  4oveliness. 


452  Jami. 

It  is  he,  my  beloved,  so  long  adored, 
My  life  and  my  treasure,  my  love  and  my  lord, 
Whose  face  in  my  vision  I  saw  when  my  soul, 
Lured  by  his  splendor,  burst  forth  from  control ; 
For  whom  body  and  soul  burnt  with  feverous  flame, 
For  whom  tears  of  blood  from  these  fountains  came  ; 
Whose  dear  love  led  me  to  this  far  land 
When  I  came  to  this  city  to  yield  him  my  hand. 
By  him  from  my  home  and  my  friends  was  I  torn, 
And  left  amid  strangers  unfriended,  forlorn. 
The  pangs  thou  hast  witnessed,  the  long  weary  sighs, 
The  woes  that  have  banished  all  rest  from  mine  eyes, 
For  him  all  these  sorrows  were  suffered,  for  him 
My  heart  was  heavy,  mine  eyes  were  dim. 
I  know  not  what  grief  has  assailed  me  to-day, 
But  my  woes  in  my  breast  like  a  mountain  weigh. 
What  court  as  a  king  does  my  fair  moon  grace? 
What  chamber  is  blest  with  the  light  of  his  face  ? 
Whose  eye  takes  the  splendor  his  glances  shed? 
And  whose  house  does  he  turn  to  a  sweet  rose-bed? 
Who  wins  from  those  fresh  lips  a  life-giving  kiss 
And  beneath  the  fair  cypress  reposes  in  bliss? 
Whose  fingers  the  braid  of  his  tresses  entwine? 
Who  joys  in  the  shade  of  that  palm  to  recline? 
Who  would  give  all  her  treasure  to  purchase  the  prize 
And  make  dust  for  his  feet  of  the  tint  of  her  eyes?" 
When  the  loving  nurse  saw  whence  the  fierce  passion 

came, 
She  wept  like  a  candle  that  melts  with  the  flame. 
She  said  :   "  Lamp  of  beauty,  hide,  hide  this  fire  ; 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  453 

Conceal  thy  longing  and  sweet  desire. 
Long  hast  thou  suffered  in  patience  thy  woe  : 
This  day,  too,  endeavor  like  patience  to  show. 
For  hope  from  thy  patience  at  length  may  arise, 
And  thy  sun  may  burst  forth  from  the  cloud  where  he 
lies." 


The   Slave-market. 

Blest  is  the  time,  of  all  hours  most  sweet, 
When  two  fond  lovers,  long  parted,  meet. 
When  love's  touch  burns  with  a  steady  ray, 
And  the  pangs  of  longing  have  passed  away. 

The  beauty  of  Yusuf  so  charmed  each  eye 
That  thousands  of  Memphis  came  round  to  buy. 
Each  one  his  costliest  treasure  sold, 
And  ran  to  the  mart  with  the  ready  gold. 
They  say  an  old  crone  for  his  beauty  sighed  : 
She  caught  up  a  handful  of  yarn  and  cried  : 
"  No  gold  or  silver  to  show  have  I, 
But  this  will  admit  me  with  those  who  would  buy." 

The  crier  shouted  :  "  Come,  listen  to  me. 
Who  would  purchase  a  slave  from  all  blemish  free? 
The  first  dawnings  of  grace  on  his  young  cheek  shine, 
And  his  lip  is  a  ruby  from  beauty's  mine. 
High  wisdom's  stamp  on  his  brow  is  impressed, 
And  the  gentle  virtues  have  filled  his  breast. 
He  speaks  no  word  but  the  truth  alone, 
And  fraud  and  falsehood  to  him  are  unknown." 

The  first  who  spoke  in  the  dense  array 


454  Jami. 

A  bag  of  red  gold  for  the  boy  would  pay : 

A  bag  containing,  all  duly  told, 

A  thousand  coins  of  the  finest  gold. 

Then  others  on  horseback  the  market  sought, 

And  a  hundred  bags,  each  of  like  value,  brought. 

Another  outbid  them  all  and  would  pay 

As  much  fine  musk  as  the  boy  might  weigh. 

Another  priced  him  at  higher  rate 

And  offered  in  ruby  and  pearl  his  weight. 

Thus  each  tendered  his  wealth  in  store, 

And  the  price  of  Yusuf  rose  more  and  more. 

Zulaikha  was  aware  of  the  strife  and  stir, 
And  the  highest  offer  was  doubled  by  her. 
Their  lips  were  closed,  and  their  faces  blank, 
As  low  on  the  knee  of  despair  they  sank. 
To  the  Grand  Vizir  in  her  haste  she  spake  : 
"The  price  of  the  slave  to  his  owner  take." 
He  answered  :  "  The  musk  and  the  pearl  and  gold, 
And  all  the  wealth  that  my  treasuries  hold, 
Not  half  the  price  of  the  boy  would  be  ; 
And  how  can  the  ransom  be  paid  by  me?" 

She  had  a  casket  of  jewels  —  nay, 
A  vault  of  heaven  where  the  bright  stars  lay ; 
And  of  all  the  gems  of  her  treasure  few 
Were  less  valued  than  Egypt's  whole  revenue. 
"Take  these  jewels,"  she  cried,  "O  my  soul's  dear 

gem, 
And  pay  the  price  of  the  boy  with  them." 
With  fresh  excuses  he  met  her  prayer : 
"  The  king  will  buy  him,  a  slave  so  fair, 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  455 

And  set  over  all,  at  his  household's  head, 

A  youth  so  true  and  so  gently  bred." 

"  Hasten,"  said  she,  "  to  the  king,  and  all 

Thy  faithful  care  to  his  mind  recall. 

Say,  '  Bar  to  my  joy  have  I  only  one, 

That  mine  eyes  may  look  on  no  darling  son.1 

Enhance  my  state  by  the  boon  I  crave, 

And  leave  me  free  to  command  the  slave.'  " 

Zulaikha  spoke,  and  her  lord  obeyed  : 
Before  the  king  his  request  he  laid. 
Just  was  the  plea,  and  the  monarch  bent 
His  ear  to  listen,  and  gave  assent. 
He  gave  him  permission  the  slave  to  buy 
And  look  on  the  boy  with  a  father's  eye. 

He  brought  the  youth  to  his  home ;  and  she, 
Zulaikha,  at  length  from  her  grief  was  free. 
Thus  in  a  rapture  the  lady  cried 
As  her  eyes  from  the  pearls  of  her  joy  she  dried  : 
"  Can  it  be  real,  this  bliss  supreme  ? 
Have  I  found  my  love,  or  is  all  a  dream  ? 
Ne'er  could  I  hope  in  the  gloom  of  night 
To  look  on  the  dawn  of  a  day  so  white. 
The  moon  of  triumph  her  splendor  shows  : 
Night  has  no  sorrow  and  day  no  woes. 
My  gentle  friend  will  my  secrets  share  — 
Thanks  be  to  Heaven  who  has  heard  my  prayer. 
Who  is  blest  like  me  in  this  world  of  grief, 

1  Zulaikha's  nominal  husband  belonged  to  "  that  unhappy  class 
which  a  practice  of  immemorial  antiquity  in  the  East  excluded  from 
the  pleasures  of  love  and  from  the  hope  of  posterity." 


456  Jami. 

When  verdure  revisits  the  faded  leaf  ? 

I  gasped  for  water,  but  none  was  nigh  : 

The  sun  was  fierce  and  the  sand  was  dry. 

From  the  cloud  of  grace  came  the  gentle  rain 

And  bore  the  poor  fish  to  her  native  main. 

I  wandered  lost  in  the  gloom  of  night, 

My  soul  on  my  lips  for  toil  and  affright. 

A  fair  moon  rose  in  the  east  and  led 

My  faint  steps  home  with  the  light  it  shed. 

I  lay  on  my  bed,  I  was  tortured  with  pain, 

With  the  lancet  of  Death  in  my  heart's  vital  vein, 

When  suddenly  Khizar  appeared  in  the  room, 

And  with  Water  of  Life  brought  me  back  from  the 

tomb. 
Now  thanks  be  to  Heaven  who  has  sent  me  my  friend, 
And  brought  the  long  woes  of  my  life  to  an  end. 
A  thousand  lives  be  that  noble  heart's  prize 
Who  brought  to  the  market  such  merchandise. 
If  my  jewels  are  gone,  and  I  gain  a  rich  mine 
Of  jewels  instead,  shall  I  fondly  repine  ! 
What  are  jewels  and  gems  when  compared  with  a  soul? 
He  is  welcome,  whate'er  they  may  be,  to  the  whole. 
T  recover  my  soul,  and  a  few  stones  are  lost : 
Whoe'er  bought  such  a  prize  at  so  paltry  a  cost? 
What  does  he  gain  by  his  traffic  who  sells 
The  blessed  Isa l  for  coral  and  shells  ? 2 
My  coral  and  shells  I  have  bartered  away : 
But  Isa  the  blessed  is  mine  to-day." 

1  Jesus. 

2  Things  of  little  worth. 


Yusuf  arid  Ziilaikha.  457 

She  sifted  these  thoughts  in  the  sieve  of  her  soul, 
And  let  pearls  of  tears  from  her  glad  eyes  roll. 
Now  she  thought  of  Yusuf  but  spoke  no  word, 
Though  her  heart  with  the  joy  of  his  presence  stirred, 
Again  she  recounted  the  woes  that  were  past, 
And  her  soul  rejoiced  :  he  had  come  at  last. 

Love's  Service. 

When  the  prize  to  the  net  of  Zulaikha  came, 

Heaven  struck  its  coin  in  her  happy  name. 

The  care  of  Yusuf  was  now  her  task, 

And  no  higher  joy  would  the  lady  ask. 

Silk  embroidered  with  gold  and  brocade 

To  suit  his  stature  her  care  arrayed. 

Gold-wrought  coronets,  studded  zones 

Bright  with  the  lustre  of  precious  stones ; 

For  each  day  of  the  year  a  new  dress  to  wear 

She  saw  provided,  and  ceased  from  her  care. 

When  the  breath  of  morning  was  fresh  with  dew, 

With  a  bright  fresh  robe  to  his  side  she  flew. 

When  the  Lord  of  the  East  with  red  gold  was  crowned, 

With  a  new  gold  circlet  his  brow  she  bound. 

Each  day  that  the  cypress  upreared  his  pride, 

In  varied  fashion  his  zone  she  tied, 

Changed  each  morning  that  sunlight  shone 

Stealing  the  heart  that  it  looked  upon. 

Never  two  days  might  the  same  crown  press 

The  head  of  that  cypress  of  loveliness. 

Never,  though  sweet  as  the  sugar-cane, 


458  Jami. 

Might  he  wear  the  same  girdle  like  it  again. 

With  a  thousand  kisses  she  cried,  as  she  set 

On  his  temples  a  glittering  coronet : 

"  May  the  dust  of  thy  feet  be  to  me  for  a  crown, 

For  a  ladder  to  climb  the  tall  height  of  renown  ! " 

When  over  his  shoulders  his  robe  she  drew, 

She  communed  thus  with  the  vest  anew  : 

"  Oh,  that  this  body  of  mine  might  be, 

To  cling  to  his  body,  one  thread  of  thee  ! " 

The  shawl  she  folded  about  his  breast 

In  amorous  words  like  these  was  addressed  : 

"  Ah,  how  I  long  for  that  cypress-tree, 

To  be  folded  close  to  his  heart  like  thee  !  " 

When  round  his  waist  she  adjusted  the  zone, 

In  these  wild  words  was  her  passion  shown  : 

"  Ah,  that  mine  arms  were  that  girdle  to  fold 

The  waist  of  my  love  in  their  clinging  hold  !  " 

When  she  combed  the  locks  of  his  curling  hair, 

She  found  a  balm  for  her  sorrow  there. 

But  ah,  from  its  amber  she  wove  and  set, 

To  tangle  her  soul  in  its  meshes,  a  net. 

For  breakfast  and  supper  he  might  not  leave 

The  lady's  chamber  at  morn  and  eve, 

Ever  supplied  by  her  tender  care 

With  varied  dishes  of  daintiest  fare. 

Sweet  sugar-candy  his  lips  supplied, 

And  his  teeth  were  the  kernels  that  almonds  hide. 

The  fairest  fruit  that  the  summer  brings  in 

Was  that  silver  apple,  his  rounded  chin. 

Now,  like  her  heart  as  it  burnt  in  the  flame, 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  459 

She  gave  him  the  breast  of  some  winged  game. 
Now  soft  fruits  which  her  care  had  dried, 
Sweet  as  her  lips  were,  her  hand  supplied. 
She  made  him  sherbet  with  sugar  sweet ; 
But  a  flush  came  o'er  her  and  drops  of  heat. 
Whatever  he  might  fancy,  as  swift  as  the  thought 
Of  her  own  fond  bosom,  Zulaikha  brought. 
When  the  day  was  done  and  he  fain  would  close 
His  weary  eyelids  in  soft  repose, 
A  coverlet  dainty  and  gay  was  spread 
O'er  the  silk  and  brocade  of  his  sumptuous  bed. 
Covered  with  roses  the  young  rose-spray 
Pillowed  on  tulip  and  jessamine  lay. 
Then  many  a  story  with  magic  spell, 
To  clear  the  dust  from  his  soul,  would  she  tell. 
When  slumber  a  veil  o'er  his  heavy  eyes  drew 
She  watched  in  her  fever  the  whole  night  through, 
Feeding  the  while  on  his  beauty's  lawn 
Her  pair  of  wild  roes  !  till  the  light  of  dawn. 
O'er  his  eyes  like  the  sleeping  narcissus  she  bent, 
And  inhaled  with  rapture  the  young  bud's  scent. 
Now  on  a  tulip  her  fingers  would  close, 
Now  from  the  rose-bed  she  gathered  a  rose. 
Then  she  would  look  on  his  hair  and  say : 
"  O  hair  beloved  of  grace's  rose-spray, 
Tears  of  blood  from  my  sad  eyes  well 
Because  thou,  a  Dev,  with  a  Peri  wilt  dwell !"  2 
Thus  in  her  passion  she  made  lament, 

1  Her  eyes. 

2  Hair  black  as  a  Dev,  with  a  face  fair  as  a  Peri's. 


460  J  arm. 

Till  the  long  night,  black  as  her  hair,  was  spent. 
Ever  busied  in  cares  like  these, 
Her  day  and  night  passed  without  rest  or  ease. 
Her  constant  thought  to  his  wants  she  gave, 
And,  queen  of  the  house,  was  his  humble  slave. 

Ah  !  fond  and  weak  is  a  lover,  fain 
To  toil  that  the  loved  one  be  spared  a  pain. 
If  dust  or  a  thorn  in  his  love's  path  lie, 
He  would  sweep  it  away  with  the  lash  of  his  eye, 
And  will  wait  with  his  soul  in  that  eye  for  her 
To  bend  a  kind  look  on  her  worshipper. 

The   Shepherd. 

Blest  is  the  lover  allowed  by  Fate 

About  his  beloved  to  serve  and  wait. 

All  thought  of  himself  to  the  wind  is  thrown, 

And  his  care  and  time  are  for  her  alone. 

Would  she  have  his  life  ?     At  her  feet  it  lies  : 

He  kisses  the  ground  that  she  treads,  and  dies. 

Would  she  take  his  heart  ?    Straight  that  heart  is  filled 

With  love's  warm  blood  from  his  eyes  distilled. 

His  head  is  a  foot  when  she  bids  him  rise, 

And  he  deems  her  service  a  lordly  prize. 

Oft  has  a  shepherd  been  known  to  claim, 
As  the  guard  of  religion,  a  prophet's  name ; 
And  stronger  and  stronger  in  Yusuf  s  heart 
Grew  his  rooted  love  for  the  shepherd's  part. 
Soon  as  the  wish  of  the  boy  she  knew, 
The  rein,  as  he  guided,  Zulaikha  drew. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  461 

She  ordered  those  skilled  in  the  art  to  bring 

For  the  use  of  her  darling  a  dainty  sling, 

With  gold  like  the  sunlight,  woven  with  care, 

And  bright  as  the  threads  of  his  fragrant  hair. 

Ah,  how  she  longed  in  her  heart  that  she 

Herself  one  thread  of  the  sling  might  be  ! 

"  Mine  arm  round  his  body  I  may  not  twine, 

But  a  touch  of  his  hand  would  be  surely  mine. 

But  ah,  can  I  wish  with  one  single  hair 

To  add  to  the  weight  which  that  hand  must  bear?" 

Rarest  gems  in  the  sling  she  set, 

And  pearls  such  as  made  her  own  eyes  so  wet : 

And  the  precious  rubies  a  king  would  prize 

Were  as  worthless  stones  in  the  lady's  eyes. 

Then  she  bade  the  shepherds  who  fed  their  sheep 

On  the  grassy  plain  and  the  mountain-steep 

Choose  from  their  flocks,  like  the  Ram ]  that  feeds 

In  the  heavens,  the  best  of  the  finest  breeds  — 

Lambs  fed  on  spikenard,  like  the  roes  of  Cathay, 

Whom  the  wolf  had  ne'er  looked  on  to  make  his  prey. 

And  Yusuf  departed  to  shepherd  these, 

Like  the  spring  sun  entering  Aries. 

Like  a  young  musk-deer  alone,  astray, 

To  the  lambs  in  the  valley  he  bent  his  way. 

Zulaikha  sent  with  her  shepherd  boy, 

Like  his  faithful  dog,  her  soul,  patience,  and  joy, 

And  careful  guardians  about  him,  all 

Charged  to  watch  o'er  him  lest  harm  befall. 

1  The  zodiacal  sign  Aries. 


462  Jami. 

Thus,  while  he  pleased,  passed  his  days,  and  still 

He  knew  no  guide  but  his  own  free  will. 

He  might  feed  his  flock,  if  he  chose,  on  the  plain; 

If  he  would,  in  the  realm  of  a  heart  might  reign. 

Yet  still  in  his  inmost  nature  he  stood 

Aloof  both  from  kingship  and  shepherdhood.1 

Love   Repelled. 

He  who  gives  his  heart  to  a  lovely  form 
May  look  for  no  rest  but  a  life  of  storm. 
If  the  gold  of  union  be  still  his  quest, 
With  a  fond  vain  dream  love  deludes  his  breast. 
As  the  passionate  blood  from  his  heart  distils, 
He  would  see  the  form  that  his  fancy  fills. 
When  his  tearful  eyes  have  obtained  the  grace, 
He  longs  for  a  kiss  and  a  close  embrace. 
If  round  his  darling  his  arm  he  throws, 
The  thoughts  of  parting  renew  his  woes. 
Love  may  not  lead  us  to  perfect  bliss  : 
Life  is  not  sweeter  for  love  like  this. 
From  the  secret  grief  of  the  soul  it  springs, 
And  self- earned  death  is  the  end  it  brings. 
How  should  his  days  in  sweet  calm  pass  by 
Who  must  drink  the  blood  of  his  heart  or  die? 

When  on  Yusuf,  seen  in  her  vision,  as  yet 
No  waking  eye  had  Zulaikha  set, 
One  wish  alone  in  her  heart  might  dwell,  — 

*  That  is,  his  nature  was  unchanged  by  external  circumstances. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  463 

To  look  on  the  form  which  she  loved  so  well. 
When  the  sight  of  her  darling  had  blessed  her  eyes, 
Her  bosom  yearned  for  a  sweeter  prize, 
And  her  loving  arms  round  that  form  to  wind 
Was  the  longing  thought  of  her  heart  and  mind, 
With  a  kiss  on  his  ruby-red  lips  impressed, 
By  his  arm  encircled,  to  take  her  rest. 
When  a  youth  in  the  spring  through  a  garden  goes, 
His  heart  marked  like  a  tulip,  for  love  of  the  rose, 
First  on  its  petals  he  looks  with  delight, 
And  then  plucks  the  fair  flower  that  has  charmed  his 
sight. 

With  winning  art  would  Zulaikha  woo ; 
But  Yusuf  far  from  her  gaze  withdrew. 
Tears  of  hot  blood  would  Zulaikha  shed ; 
But  her  tears  were  idle,  for  Yusuf  fled. 
Zulaikha's  soul  with  deep  wounds  was  scarred : 
But  the  heart  of  Yusuf  was  cold  and  hard. 
Still  on  his  cheek  would  Zulaikha  gaze ; 
But  Yusuf  never  his  eye  would  raise. 
For  a  glance  from  her  darling  Zulaikha  burned ; 
But  Yusuf  s  look  from  her  look  was  turned. 
His  eye  he  kept  lest  his  heart  might  err, 
And  no  fond  glance  would  he  bend  on  her. 

What  rest  has  the  lover  who  pines  alone, 
If  his  darling's  eye  may  not  meet  his  own? 
He  sheds  his  tears,  and  he  heaves  his  sighs, 
Hoping  to  gaze  on  his  loved  one's  eyes. 
If  still  those  eyes  to  his  love  she  close, 
With  the  blood  of  his  heart  he  must  weep  his  woes. 


464  Jami. 

When  this  heavy  load  on  her  bosom  lay 
Zulaikha  wasted  from  day  to  day. 
In  the  chilling  autumn  of  pain  and  grief 
The  tulip  banished  the  pink  rose-leaf. 
Under  the  weight  of  her  sorrow  she  sank, 
And  the  stately  young  cypress  tree  withered  and  shrank. 
Gone  was  the  splendor  her  lips  had  shed, 
And  the  light  that  had  shone  from  her  cheek  was  dead. 
Faint  and  weary  she  hardly  through 
Her  long  sweet  tresses  her  fingers  drew. 
Scarce  would  she  look  at  her  mirror ;  she 
Kept  her  eyes  bent  down  with  her  head  on  her  knee. 
No  borrowed  bloom  on  her  cheek  was  spread, 
For  the  blood  that  she  wept  from  her  heart  was  red. 
The  world  about  her  was  black,  and  why 
Should  she  darken  her  orbs  with  the  jetty  dye? 
If  under  those  lids  the  dark  tint  had  lain, 
The  tears  that  she  shed  would  have  washed  them  again. 
When  Zulaikha's  heart  with  her  wound  was  torn 
She  rebuked  her  spirit  with  queenly  scorn  : 
"  Shame  on  thee  !     Disgrace  on  thy  name  thou  hast 

brought 
By  love  of  the  slave  whom  thy  gold  has  bought. 
A  lady  thou  on  a  princely  throne, 
Wilt  thou  stoop  to  make  love  to  a  slave  of  thine  own? 
The  chains  of  thy  love  on  a  monarch  fling  : 
A  prince's  daughter  should  love  a  king. 
But  of  all  that  is  strange  'tis  most  strange  that  he 
Should  shrink  from  love  offered  by  one  like  thee. 
If  the  dames  of  Memphis  but  knew  thy  shame, 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  465 

Where  were  the  end  of  their  scorn  and  blame?" 

Thus  spoke  Zulaikha ;  but  still  she  felt 
That  he  alone  in  her  fond  heart  dwelt. 
Him  she  could  not  banish,  but  strove  awhile 
To  charm  her  pain  with  this  simple  guile. 

When  the  loved  one  possesses  the  lover's  soul, 
Can  he  tear  himself  free  from  her  sweet  control? 
You  may  rend  his  heart  from  his  body,  yet 
His  faith  to  his  love  he  will  never  forget. 
The  words  of  the  love-stricken  bard  are  true  : 
"  Musk  will  keep  its  scent  and  the  rose  its  hue. 
And  how  may  the  lover  have  power  to  part 
From  the  soul  of  his  soul  and  the  heart  of  his  heart?  " 


The  Messenger. 

In  course  of  long  sorrow  Zulaikha  knew 

That  her  nurse  was  faithful  and  helpful  and  true. 

"  Thou  hast  served  me  often,"  'twas  thus  she  prayed ; 

"  Help  me  again,  for  I  need  thine  aid. 

To  him  as  my  messenger  take  thy  way, 

Be  thou  mine  eloquent  tongue,  and  say : 

'  Delicate  plant,  ever  tended  with  care, 

Lovely  with  blossom  but  wayward  as  fair ; 

In  the  garden  of  beauty  no  cypress  tree 

Lifts  up  its  head  to  compare  with  thee. 

Moulded  from  spirit  and  soul  was  the  clay 

Wherein  was  planted  thy  Sidra-spray. 

When  the  green  leaves  came  on  each  growing  bough, 

They  said  :  "  The  fairest  of  trees  art  thou." 


466  Jami. 

Since  the  bride  of  Time  was  a  mother,  she 

Was  never  made  glad  by  a  child  like  thee. 

The  eye  of  Adam  was  bright  at  thy  birth, 

And  the  bloom  of  thy  cheek  made  a  rose-bed  of  earth. 

For  none  of  the  children  of  men  is  so  fair ; 

No  Peri  has  beauty  with  thine  to  compare. 

If  thy  loveliness  shamed  not  the  Peris,  why 

Should  they  hide  in  a  corner  when  thou  art  nigh  ? 

Angels  enthroned  in  the  heavenly  height 

Bend  their  heads  to  the  ground  when  thy  face  is  in 

sight. 
If,  by  favor  of  Heaven,  so  high  is  thy  place, 
Have  mercy  and  show  thy  poor  captive  grace. 
They  say  that  Zulaikha  is  witchingly  fair, 
But  ah,  she  has  fallen  a  prey  to  thy  snare. 
She    has   carried  from  childhood   the  wound  in  her 

breast 
Which  for  many  long  days  has  deprived  her  of  rest. 
In  three  nightly  visions  thy  face  was  shown, 
And  no   peace  in  her  heart  from  that  time  has  she 

known. 
Now  chained  like  the  waves  of  the  wind-rippled  sea, 
Now  roaming  ere  morn  like  the  zephyr  is  she. 
She  is  worn  by  her  sorrow  as  thin  as  a  hair, 
And  her  longing  for  thee  is  her  only  care. 
All  the  gold  of  her  life  for  thy  sake  has  she  spent ; 
Have  pity  at  last :  it  is  sweet  to  relent. 
Pure  and  fresh  is  the  Water  of  Life  on  thy  lip  : 
What  harm  if  a  drop  from  the  fountain  she  sip? 
With  full  clusters  laden,  what  harm  to  allow 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  467 

One  taste  of  the  fruit  that  hangs  ripe  on  the  bough? 
On  thy  ruby  lip  let  her  feed  her  fill, 
And  perhaps  the  wild  storm  of  her  breast  will  be  still. 
Let  her  pluck  the  dates  from  that  palm-tree's  height, 
Or  lay  down  her  head  where  thy  foot  may  light. 
What  wilt  thou  lose  of  thy  rank,  my  king, 
If  thine  eye  one  glance  on  thy  servant  fling? 
In  all  the  pride  of  her  station,  she 
The  least  of  thy  handmaids  would  gladly  be.'  " 
He  heard  the  speech.     In  reply  to  the  dame 
From  his  ruby  lips  opened  this  answer  came  : 
"  Skilled  in  the  secrets  thou  knowest  so  well, 
Cheat  not  my  soul  with  thy  ravishing  spell. 
The  slave  of  Zulaikha  and  bought  with  her  gold, 
My  debt  for  her  kindness  can  never  be  told. 
To  this  stately  mansion  she  raised  my  clay, 
And  nurtured  my  soul  and  my  life  each  day. 
If  I  counted  her  favors  my  whole  life  through, 
I  never  could  pay  her  the  thanks  that  are  due. 
On  the  line  of  her  pleasure  my  head  I  lay, 
And  I  wait  ever  ready  to  serve  and  obey. 
But  warn  her  never  to  hope  that  I 
My  God's  commandment  will  break  and  defy. 
Ne'er  let  her  tempt  me  in  hope  to  win 
The  soul  which  I  strive  to  keep  pure  from  sin. 
I  am  called  his  son  by  the  Grand  Vizir ; 
He  counts  me  true  and  my  love  sincere. 
Shall  I,  the  young  bird  whom  his  care  has  bred, 
Bring  shame  on  the  house  where  I  long  have  fed? 
God  in  various  natures  has  sown  the  seeds 


468  Jami. 

Of  divers  wishes  and  thoughts  and  deeds. 
The  pure  in  nature  will  fear  disgrace ; 
But  base  are  his  actions  whose  birth  is  base. 
Can  a  dog  be  born  of  a  woman  ?     Where 
Does  barley  wheat  or  wheat  barley  bear? 
In  my  bosom  the  secrets  of  Jacob  dwell, 
And  my  heart  keeps  the  wisdom  of  Gabriel. 
Am  I  worthy  of  prophethood?     Well  I  know 
To  holy  Isaac  that  hope  I  owe. 
A  rose  am  I  and  a  secret  I  hold ; 
In  Abraham's  garden  my  petals  unfold. 
May  sin  never  drive  me  —  forbid  it,  God  !  — 
Aside  from  the  path  which  my  fathers  trod. 
Bid  Zulaikha  spurn  the  wild  thought,  and  free 
Her  own  kind  heart  from  the  sin,  and  me. 
My  trust  in  the  God  whom  I  serve  is  sure 
To  keep  my  life  undefiled  and  pure." 

Excuses. 

The  answer  was  brought  to  Zulaikha  ;  despair 
Made  her  senses  as  wild  as  her  own  wild  hair. 
From  her  eye's  black  almond  there  came  a  flood 
Of  thick  tears  mixed  with  her  own  heart's  blood. 
She  reared  up  her  stately  cypress,  and  flew 
Till  its  shade  o'er  the  head  of  her  darling  she  threw. 
"My  head,"  she  cried,  "  at  thy  feet  shall  be, 
But  ne'er  shall  my  breast  from  thy  love  be  free. 
My  love  of  thee  throbs  in  each  hair  of  my  head  : 
Self-thought  and  self- feeling  are  vanished  and  dead. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  469 

That  vision  of  thee  is  my  soul,  and  the  snare 
Of  thy  love  is  the  collar  which  slave-like  I  wear. 
Have  I  a  soul  ?     Tis  but  longing  for  thee  ; 
A  body?     Its  spirit  is  hasting  to  flee. 
But  how  of  the  state  of  my  heart  shall  I  speak? 
'Tis  one  drop  of  the  torrent  that  pours  down  my  cheek. 
In  the  whelming  sea  of  thy  love  I  drown  : 
Its  waters  rush  o'er  me  and  weigh  me  down. 
When  the  leech  with  his  lancet  would  ease  my  pain, 
Love  of  thee,  and  not  blood,  gushes  forth  from  the 
vein." 

Then  Yusuf  wept  at  her  words.     "  Ah,  why 
Those  tears?"  said  Zulaikha,  and  heaved  a  sigh. 
"  Thou  art  mine  own  very  eye,  and  while 
Tears  of  sorrow  are  dewing  it  how  can  I  smile  ? 
For  each  big  drop  from  thine  eye  that  flows, 
A  flame  of  fire  in  my  bosom  glows. 
A  miracle  this  of  thy  beauty,  that  turns 
Water  itself  into  flame  that  burns." 

He  saw  her  anguish,  he  heard  her  sighs, 
And  the  tears  flowed  down  from  his  lips  and  eyes  : 
"  My  heart  is  broken,"  he  said,  "when  I  see 
How  woe  ever  waits  upon  love  of  me. 
My  aunt's  foolish  love  was  my  earliest  grief, 
For  it  made  me  appear  to  the  world  as  a  thief. 
Loved  by  my  father  I  still  was  unblest, 
For  envy  grew  fast  in  each  brother's  breast. 
From  his  sight  they  banished  his  favored  child, 
And  to  Egypt's  land  have  I  come  exiled. 
And  now  must  the  heart  in  my  bosom  bleed 


470  Jami. 

At  the  thought  of  the  woe  which  thy  love  may  breed. 

The  Lord  of  lovers  is  jealous  :   He 

Will  brook  in  His  kingship  no  rivalry. 

He  will  have  no  partner  to  share  His  throne, 

But  from  first  to  last  He  will  reign  alone.     . 

Scarce  may  a  cypress  its  proud  top  show 

Ere  like  a  long  shadow  He  lays  it  low. 

Scarce  can  the  moon  her  full  light  display 

Ere  scathed  by  His  anger  it  fades  away. 

Soon  as  the  sun  in  the  zenith  shines 

The  golden  light  to  the  west  declines." 

Zulaikha  answered  :  "  My  lamp  and  eye, 
I  need  no  moonlight  when  thou  art  nigh. 
If  I  may  not  be  dear  in  thy  sight,  to  be 
The  least  of  thy  slaves  were  enough  for  me. 
But  canst  thou  not  treat  her  in  gentler  mood, 
And  free  her  from  sorrows  of  servitude  ? 
No  outward  sign  will  thy  handmaid  show, 
But  her  heart  will  long  and  her  bosom  glow. 
Why  dost  thou  deem  me  a  foe  ?     Thou  art 
Dearer  to  me  than  mine  own  dear  heart. 
And  where  is  the  fool  who  would  add  a  care 
To  double  the  load  which  his  heart  must  bear? 
What  dost  thou  fear  from  my  hate?     My  heart 
By  the  sword  of  thy  love  has  been  cleft  apart. 
Ah,  kiss  me  ;  the  touch  of  thy  lips  will  restore 
The  rest  of  my  soul  that  I  sorrow  no  more." 
"  Nay,  my  sweet  mistress,"  thus  Yusuf  replied  : 
"  In  duty's  bonds  I  am  chained  and  tied. 
From  the  path  of  service  I  may  not  stray : 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  -  471 

There  thou  commandest  and  I  obey. 

More  than  such  duty  forbear  to  claim  ; 

Make  not  thy  love  my  dishonor  and  shame. 

Assign  me  some  labor  that  far  from  thy  side 

My  days  still  for  thee  may  be  occupied. 

Against  thy  light  orders  I  will  not  rebel, 

But  remember  thy  bounties  and  serve  thee  well. 

By  faithful  service  a  slave  like  me 

Made  glad  by  kindness  at  length  is  free. 

True  service  rejoices  a  master ;  but  still 

A  slave  he  continues  who  serves  him  ill." 

"Rare  jewel,"  she  answered,  "  compared  with  thee 

The  meanest  slave's  rank  were  too  high  for  me. 

For  each  slight  task,  when  my  voice  is  heard, 

A  hundred  servants  obey  my  word. 

Their  ready  service  can  I  refuse, 

And  thee  for  the  task  or  the  message  choose  ? 

The  eye  is  counted  of  higher  worth 

Than  the  foot  which  is  fashioned  to  tread  the  earth. 

Thorns  in  the  path  of  thy  foot  may  lie, 

But  lay  not  upon  them  thy  precious  eye." 

Again  said  Yusuf :  "  Dear  lady,  round 
Whose  heart  the  bands  of  my  love  are  bound, 
If  thy  love  like  the  light  of  the  morn  be  true, 
Only  my  will  must  thou  seek  to  do. 
My  wish  is  only  to  serve  thee  ;  thou  — 
Or  thou  art  no  friend  —  must  the  wish  allow. 
To  please  the  heart  that  he  loves,  a  friend 
Regards  as  his  being's  true  aim  and  end. 
'Neath  the  foot  of  friendship  his  will  he  sets, 


472  Jami. 

And  self  in  the  love  of  his  friend  forgets." 

He  spake  in  the  hope  that  a  task  might  bar 
All  converse  with  her  and  keep  him  afar. 
He  knew  that  her  presence  was  trouble  and  fear  : 
In  distance  was  safety,  and  woe  to  be  near. 
In  fire  and  tempest  the  wool  that  flies 
When  it  may  not  contend  with  the  flame  is  wise. 

Fresh  Counsel. 

Deep  in  despair  was  Zulaikha,  slain 

With  the  love  of  the  boy  whom  she  wooed  in  vain. 

One  night  she  summoned  her  nurse  to  her  side, 

Where  gently  she  bade  her  be  seated,  and  cried  : 

"  Strength  of  this  frame  when  my  limbs  are  weak, 

Lamp  of  my  soul  when  thy  light  I  seek, 

Thy  nursling  owes  thee  each  breath  that  she  draws  ; 

If  she  lives,  the  sweet  milk  of  thy  love  is  the  cause. 

Love  more  than  a  mother's,  too  deep  to  be  told, 

Has  raised  me  up  to  the  rank  I  hold. 

How  long  must  I  pine  with  my  fond  bosom  scarred, 

How  long  from  that  soul  of  the  world  be  debarred  ? 

Wilt  thou  not  aid  me,  and  tenderly  guide 

My  feet  to  the  harbor  that  still  is  denied? 

What  profits  it  me  that  my  palace  walls  hold 

My  friend  and  myself,  if  that  friend  is  so  cold? 

The  lover,  whose  darling  refuses  to  hear, 

Is  far  from  his  love,  though  he  seem  to  be  near. 

If  spirit  from  spirit  be  still  far  away, 

What  fruit  has  the  meeting  of  water  and  clay?" 


"Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  473 

"  Sweet  child  of  the  Peris,"  the  nurse  replied, 

"  Though  what  were  a  Peri  if  set  by  thy  side? 

God  gave  thee  thy  beauty  to  steal  from  the  wise 

Their  heart  and  their  face  with  thy  ravishing  eyes. 

If  a  painter  of  china  thy  form  portrayed, 

And  hung  in  a  temple  the  picture  he  made, 

The  very  idols  to  life  would  spring, 

And  their  souls  be  the  slaves  of  so  fair  a  thing. 

On  the  mountain  height  if  thy  cheek  were  shown, 

Love  would  throb  and  thrill  in  the  hard  flint  stone. 

When  to  the  garden  thy  steps  are  led, 

Each  dry  tree  raises  his  amorous  head. 

Each  fawn  on  the  plains  when  thy  form  she  spies, 

Would  sweep  thee  a  path  with  the  fringe  of  her  eyes. 

When  the  charm  of  thy  lip  dropping  sugar  is  heard, 

From  river  and  sky  come  the  fish  and  the  bird. 

Why  art  thou  sad,  when  such  beauty  is  thine? 

Why  yield  to  thy  sorrow,  and  bitterly  pine  ? 

Shoot  out  from  that  eye  but  one  arrow,  and  thou 

Wilt  conquer  the  boy  with  the  bow  of  thy  brow. 

Coil  but  a  lock  of  those  tresses,  his  feet 

Will  be  caught  in  that  beautiful  snare  when  you  meet." 

u  How  can  I  tell  the  cruel  scorn," 

Zulaikha  said,  "  that  I  long  have  borne  ? 

Can  I  show  my  beauty  to  one  whose  eye 

Is  bent  on  the  ground  when  my  step  is  nigh? 

Were  I  the  moon,  he  would  turn  away  : 

The  sun,  he  would  shrink  from  his  golden  ray. 

If,  his  own  eye's  apple,  I  lent  him  light, 

Scarce  would  he  welcome  the  boon  of  sight. 


474  Jami. 

Ah  !  if  a  glance  on  mine  eye  he  would  throw, 
The  pangs  that  I  suffer  perchance  he  might  know. 
Those  griefs  would  find  place  in  his  heart  •  but  he 
Would  never  languish  for  love  like  me. 
'Tis  not  only  his  beauty  that  kills  me ;  no, 
'Tis  the  cold,  cold  heart,  where  no  spark  will  glow. 
Ah  !  if  but  a  pang  for  my  sake  he  had  felt, 
Thus  with  my  lover  I  never  had  dealt." 
"  Thou  whose  beauty  casts  on  the  sun  a  shade  "  — 
The  nurse  to  her  lady  this  answer  made  — 
"  I  have  wrought  a  plan,  and  I  trust  that  rest 
Will  at  length  be  thine  from  the  thought  in  my  breast 
Bring  forth  thy  treasure  stored  up  of  old, 
Lade  a  camel  with  silver,  a  mule  with  gold. 
I  will  build  a  palace  like  Iram  fair, 
And  a  skilful  painter  shall  labor  there 
To  paint  on  the  walls  with  seductive  charms, 
Zulaikha  folded  in  Yusufs  arms. 
If,  for  a  moment,  he  visit  the  place, 
He  will  see  thee  locked  in  his  own  embrace. 
Then  will  he  yearn  for  thy  touch,  and  at  length 
The  love  of  thy  beauty  will  grow  to  its  strength. 
Soon  will  he  yield  with  his  senses  on  fire, 
And  naught  will  be  left  for  thy  heart  to  desire." 
She  heard  the  counsel :  her  heart  was  bold  : 
She  brought  forth  the  stores  of  her  silver  and  gold  ; 
And  her  wealth,  fond  fancies  therewith  to  build, 
She  gave  to  the  nurse  to  be  spent  as  she  willed. 


Yustff  and  Zulaikha.  475 


The  Palace. 

They  who  raised  the  dome  of  this  story  say 

That  the  nurse,  whom  the  plan  of  her  brain  made  gay, 

Called  in  a  wise  master,  his  aid  to  lend, 

With  a  hundred  arts  at  each  finger's  end ; 

A  skilled  geometer,  trained  and  tried, 

Through  the  maze  of  the  stars  a  most  trusty  guide. 

He  had  learned  his  figures  from  Almagest,1 

And  his  problems  were  troubles  to  Euclid's  rest. 

If  he  found  no  compasses  ready  at  hand, 

Two  fingers  drew  deftly  the  circle  he  planned, 

And  the  lines  that  he  wanted  most  straight  and  true 

Without  the  help  of  a  rule  he  drew. 

He  had  mounted  up  to  the  seventh  sphere, 

And  built  in  Saturn  a  belvedere. 

If  his  hand  but  turned  to  the  mason's  saw, 

The  stone  grew  soft  as  the  clay  for  awe. 

When  to  architecture  he  turned  his  thought, 

Wondrous  and  fair  were  the  works  he  wrought. 

The  endless  plain  of  the  world  on  the  space 

Of  his  finger-nail  he  could  truly  trace, 

And  with  heightened  charm  in  the  sketch  he  drew 

The  shape  of  a  fairer  creation  grew. 

There  was  life  and  soul  in  the  drawing  when 

The  lines  were  sketched  by  his  artist  pen. 

If  his  fingers  had  graven  a  bird  of  stone, 

It  had  risen  up  in  the  air  and  flown. 

1  Ptolemy's  Syntaxis  Magna,  translated  into  Arabic  under  the  title 
A I  Megiste,  about  800  A.D. 


476  Jami.    * 

By  the  nurse's  order  his  hand  of  gold 

Began  the  work  on  the  plan  she  told. 

There  was  hope  in  the  sheen  of  the  polished  walls, 

And  the  dawn  of  bliss  gleamed  through  the  stately 

halls. 
The  brightest  marble  adorned  the  floor, 
And  ivory  shone  on  each  ebony  door. 
Within  the  palace  were  chambers  seven, 
In  number  and  sheen  like  the  stories  of  heaven, 
Pure  and  polished  and  fair  to  view, 
Each  wrought  of  stone  of  a  different  hue  ; 
The  seventh,  fair  as  the  seventh  sphere  -— 
All  words,  all  painting  would  fail  me  here  — 
Forty  gold  pillars  upheld,  inlaid 
With  jewels,  and  beasts  and  birds  portrayed. 
Against  each  column  a  musk-deer  leant, 
And  stored  in  the  gold  was  the  precious  scent ; 
And  peacocks  wrought  in  pure  gold  displayed 
Their  jewelled  plumes  in  the  long  colonnade. 
But  a  special  marvel,  eclipsing  them, 
Was  a  shady  tree  with  a  silver  stem. 
Never  a  man  might  its  like  behold, 
With  leaves  of  turkois  and  boughs  of  gold. 
On  each  branch  was  a  bird,  a  wonder  of  skill, 
With  emerald  wings  and  a  ruby  bill. 

The  painter  there,  to  his  orders  true, 
The  forms  of  Zulaikha  and  Yusuf  drew, 
Like  lovers  both  of  one  heart  and  mind, 
With  the  arm  of  each  round  the  other  twined. 
Like  heaven  was  the  ceiling,  for  wrought  thereon 


Ynsuf  and  Zulaikha.  477 

The  sun  and  the  moon  in  their  glory  shone. 

In  the  prime  of  Spring  on  the  walls  outspread 

To  the  wondering  view  was  a  bright  rose-bed, 

And  the  eye  might  mark  in  each  narrow  space 

The  rose-sprays  twined  in  a  close  embrace. 

Wherever  the  foot  on  the  carpet  stepped 

Two  lovely  roses  together  slept. 

Search  through  the  palace,  no  spot  was  there 

But  showed  a  type  of  that  beauteous  pair. 

Under  the  foot,  overhead,  and  around, 

An  emblem  of  two  happy  lovers  was  found. 

The  love  of  Zulaikha  still  grew  meanwhile, 

And  rose  each  day  with  the  rising  pile. 

As  the  idol-house  met  her  eager  gaze, 

With  fiercer  fire  was  her  heart  ablaze. 

There  thrills  a  new  pang  through  the  lover's  breast 

When  he  looks  on  the  picture  of  her  he  loves  best, 

The  fair  lines  of  her  features  his  woes  recall, 

And  he  sinks  in  his  sorrow  love's  helpless  thrall. 

In  the  Palace. 

Zulaikha  opened  her  hand  and  decked 
The  finished  work  of  the  Architect. 
Tissue  of  gold  on  the  floor  was  strown, 
And  its  beauty  enhanced  with  a  golden  throne. 
Jewelled  lamps  on  the  walls  were  hung, 
And  odorous  herbs  were  beneath  them  flung. 
She  gathered  together  all  things  most  fair, 
And  unrolled  the  carpet  of  pleasure  there. 


478  Jami. 

But  amid  the  charms  of  the  sumptuous  hall 
She  longed  only  for  Yusuf,  far  dearer  than  all 
A  heavenly  palace  is  dark  and  dim 
To  a  lover  whose  darling  is  far  from  him. 

She  would  summon  Yusuf,  once  more  they  would 
meet : 
She  would  set  him  high  on  a  princely  seat, 
She  would  woo  his  beauty  and  win  success 
With  her  tender  guile  and  her  soft  caress, 
Or  feed  on  his  lips  and  beguile  her  care 
With  the  tangled  locks  of  the  rebel's  hair. 
But  to  conquer  his  heart  she  would  add  a  grace 
To  her  peerless  form  and  her  perfect  face. 
Her  beauty  needed  no  art,  and  yet 
A  current  stamp  by  its  aid  was  set. 
The  rose  of  the  garden  is  fair  to  view, 
But  lovelier  still  with  her  pearls  of  dew. 

She  freshened  the  tint  of  her  roses  and  spread 
A  livelier  hue  where  a  bud  was  dead. 
She  darkened  the  line  of  her  eyebrows,  so 
To  curve  the  new  moon  to  a  full  rainbow. 
Her  hair,  like  the  musk  of  China,  which  fell 
In  long  black  tresses  she  braided  well, 
And  the  pink  of  her  delicate  neck  between 
The  coils  that  hung  over  her  shoulders  was  seen. 
She  prepared  the  spell  of  her  witching  eye, 
And  darkened  the  lid  with  the  jetty  dye. 
She  set  here  and  there  a  dark  spot  on  her  cheek, 
And  these  were  the  words  that  her  looks  would  speak  : 
"  Thy  face  is  so  fair,  love,  that  I  at  the  view 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikba.  479 

Consume,  heart  and  soul,  like  the  seeds  of  the  rue."  ' 

Her  fingers  deftly  with  henna  she  stained, 

That  his  heart  thereby  might  be  caught  and  detained  ; 

But  a  painter  colored  her  palm  with  care, 

For  with  this  a  picture  she  hoped  to  snare. 

The  jujube's  tint,  on  her  filberts  spread, 

Spoke  of  tears  of  blood  that  her  eyes  had  shed. 

The  fair  new  moon  2  of  each  delicate  nail, 

Came  full  into  sight  from  the  shrouding  veil, 

That  the  new  moon 3  of  bliss  might  at  length  appear 

And  announce  that  the  feast  of  her  joy  was  near. 

Beside  her  cheek  was  an  earring  set, 

And  a  moon  and  a  star  in  conjunction  met. 

Ah,  might  that  meeting  herself  unite 

With  the  moon  of  the  Faith,  the  wide  world's  delight ! 

Across  her  bosom,  like  sweet  flowers  grown 

To  perfect  beauty,  a  scarf  was  thrown. 

Then  she  drew  on  a  delicate  smock  and  her  skin 

Filled  with  roses  the  folds  of  the  jessamine, 

Which  looked  to  the  eye  like  a  stream  that  flows 

Over  a  garden  of  tulip  and  rose, 

A  wondrous  stream,  of  fine  silver  made, 

Where  two  fishes 4  at  rest  on  two  arms  were  laid. 

On  each  wrist  a  fair  bracelet  shone  to  enfold 

Each  glittering  fish  with  a  collar  of  gold. 

So  by  her  cheek  and  her  hand  was  it  shown 

1  The  seeds  are  black  and  are  burnt  as  charms. 

2  The  white  of  the  nail. 

3  The  appearance  of  the  new  moon  at  the  end  of  Ramazan,  the 
Mussulman  Lent,  is  eagerly  looked  for,  as  the  long  fast  then  ends. 

4  Her  long  shapely  hands. 


480  Jami. 

That  her  charms  from  the  moon  to  the  Fish  1  were 

known. 
Next  the  lady  her  form  arrayed 
In  precious  tissue  of  China  brocade. 
She  shone  so  bright  in  that  robe,  Chinese 
To  her  as  an  idol  had  bent  their  knees. 
On  her  jet-black  garner  of  hair  was  set, 
Of  pearl  and  gold  mingled,  a  coronet. 
No  peacock,  proud  of  his  jewelled  plumes, 
Could  move  more  bright  through  the  splendid  rooms. 
She  reckoned  on  conquest,  for  who  could  withstand 
The  charms  seen  in  the  mirror  she  held  in  her  hand  ? 
Those  charms  she  assayed,  and  the  mirror  told 
That  the  beauty  she  trusted  was  current  gold. 
As  she  thought  of  her  treasures  her  joy  rose  high, 
And  nothing  was  wanting  save  one  to  buy. 

She  sent  her  maidens  and  bade  them  call 
Yusuf  to  visit  her  new-built  hall. 
He  came,  bright,  noble,  and  mild,  like  the  sun 
And  the  moon  and  Mercury  joined  in  one. 
No  mixture  of  clay  made  his  nature  base, 
And  light,  all  light,  were  his  brow  and  face. 
One  glance  from  that  eye,  and  the  world  is  aglow : 
He  speaks,  and  all  nations  his  utterance  know. 

Zulaikha  saw,  and  the  flames  rose  high, 
Like  the  spark  that  falls  where  the  reeds  are  dry. 
"  Purest  of  creatures,  thou  lamp  to  guide 
The  eyes  of  those  who  see  best,"  she  cried. 

1  Her  cheek  is  the  moon  above  the  earth,  and  her  hand  the  Fish 
on  which  the  earth  rests. 


Ynsuf  and  Zulaikba,  481 

"  O  sen-ant  faithful  and  prompt  to  obey, 
High  favor  and  grace  should  thy  care  repay. 
Thy  dutiful  love  I  can  never  forget, 
And  my  glory  and  pride  is  my  collar  of  debt, 
Come,  and  to-day  will  I  labor  to  show 
Some  slight  return  for  the  debt  I  owe  : 
Nay,  long  in  the  record  of  time  shall  live 
The  meed  I  bestow  and  the  thanks  I  give." 

With  gentle  charm  and  resistless  sway 
To  the  first  of  the  chambers  she  led  the  way. 

Soon  as  the  door  of  pure  gold  he  passed, 
With  the  lock  of  iron  she  closed  it  fast. 
The  door  she  closed,  but  the  secret  nursed 
Deep  in  her  heart  from  her  lips  outburst. 
Thus  she  addressed  him  :  "  O  thou,  the  whole 
Wish  and  desire  of  my  hungry  soul, 
Thy  vision  appeared  in  my  dreams  and  beguiled 
The  sleep  from  mine  eyes  when  I  yet  was  a  child. 
That  vision  brought  frenzy  and  anguish  to  dwell 
Forever  with  me  :  I  loved  thee  so  well. 
Ere  yet  I  had  seen  thee,  to  find  thee  here 
I  came  from  my  country  and  all  that  was  dear. 
A  helpless  exile  I  sat  and  grieved, 
And  no  sweet  comfort  my  woes  relieved. 
After  long  pain  I  was  blest  to  behold 
Thy  face ;  but  hope  fled,  for  thine  eye  was  cold. 
Look  on  me  no  longer  with  eyes  so  stern  : 
Oh,  one  word  of  love,  one  word,  in  return  !  " 

He  bent  his  head  as  he  answered  :  "  Thou 
To  whose  bidding  a  hundred  high  princes  bow, 


482  Jami. 

Release  me  from  this  sore  burden  of  woe, 

And  freedom  of  heart  on  thy  slave  bestow. 

Dear  lady,  longer  I  would  not  be 

In  this  curtained  chamber  alone  with  thee, 

For  thou  art  a  flame,  and  the  wool  is  dry  : 

The  wind  art  thou  and  the  musk  am  I. 

Is  the  wool  secure  when  the  flame  burns  fast? 

Should  the  musk  be  left  to  the  boisterous  blast?" 

His  eager  words  to  the  winds  she  threw  : 

To  the  second  chamber  the  boy  she  drew. 

Again  she  fastened  the  door :  again 

The  heart  of  Yusuf  was  rent  with  pain. 

She  lifted  the  veil  of  the  days  gone  by 

And  poured  out  her  grief  with  a  bitter  cry : 

"  How  long  wilt  thou  scorn  me,  Oh  !  thou  more  sweet 

Than  my  soul,  and  rebel  when  I  fall  at  thy  feet? 

I  lavished  my  treasure  to  buy  thee,  I  gave 

My  faith  and  my  prudence  to  make  thee  my  slave. 

For  I  hoped  in  my  heart  that,  pledged  to  obey, 

Thou  wouldst  be  my  comfort  and  joy  and  stay. 

But  no  order  I  give  thee  wilt  thou  fulfil, 

And  thou  seekest  each  path  save  the  path  of  my  will." 

"Sin  is  not  obedience,"  he  answered;  "shame 

Ne'er  may  be  linked  with  true  duty's  name. 

Each  act  defying  the  Master's  law 

Is  in  true  service  a  breach  and  flaw : 

And  never  mine  be  the  power  or  will 

To  break  His  law  by  a  deed  so  ill." 

Onward  from  chamber  to  chamber  they  strayed, 

And  in  each  for  a  little  their  steps  delayed. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  483 

New  arts  of  temptation  in  each  she  plied, 

In  each  new  magic  and  charms  were  tried. 

Through  six  of  the  rooms  she  had  led  him,  still 

She  won  not  the  game  1  though  she  played  with  skill. 

Only  the  seventh  was  left :  therein 

Lay  her  strongest  hope  that  at  last  she  might  win. 

In  this  way  was  nothing  of  dark  despair, 

For  black  to  her  eyes  seemed  white  and  fair. 

If  no  hope  from  a  hundred  doors  appears, 

Eat  not  thy  heart  nor  give  way  to  tears. 

For  yet  one  door  thou  mayst  open  and  see 

A  way  to  the  place  where  thou  fain  wouldst  be. 

Flight. 

These  are  the  words  of  the  bard  who  sings 

This  ancient  story  of  mystic  things. 

To  the  seventh  chamber  their  steps  they  bent, 

And  Zulaikha  cried  in  her  discontent : 

"  Pass  not  this  chamber  unnoticed  by, 

And  lay  thy  foot  on  this  loving  eye." 

He  entered  and  sat  where  she  bade  him :  again 
She  fastened  the  door  with  a  golden  chain. 
No  spy,  no  stranger  might  there  intrude 
To  break  the  charm  of  the  solitude. 
'Twas  made  for  the  loved  and  the  lover  alone, 
And  the  dread  of  the  censor  was  there  unknown. 

1  An  allusion  to  the  game  of  draughts,  the  Persian  board  contain- 
ing six  squares,  and  the  game  being  called  "  shashdar,"  i.e.,  "  six- 
doored." 


484  Jami. 

The  loved  one's  beauty  was  there  more  bright, 
And  the  lover's  heart  sang  a  song  of  delight. 
No  more  was  the  bosom's  soft  flame  concealed, 
And  the  spirit  of  love  had  a  limitless  field. 

Full,  eyes  and  heart,  of  the  flame  she  fanned, 
She  seized  in  wild  passion  her  darling's  hand, 
And  with  gentle  magic  of  words  most  sweet, 
Half  led  and  half  drew  his  slow  steps  to  a  seat. 
She  threw  herself  there  by  his  side.     Then  broke 
A  flood  of  hot  tears  from  her  eyes,  and  she  spoke 
"  Look  on  me,  look  on  me  once,  my  sweet : 
One  tender  glance  from  those  eyes,  I  entreat. 
Then  if  the  sun  saw  my  glad  face,  he 
Moon-like  might  borrow  new  light  from  me. 
How  long  wilt  thou  see  my  poor  heart's  distress? 
How  long  will  thy  heart  be  so  pitiless?  " 

She  told  her  love,  and  her  sorrow  woke 
With  a  pang  renewed  at  each  word  she  spoke. 
But  Yusuf  looked  not  upon  her  :  in  dread 
He  lowered  his  eyes  and  bent  his  head. 
As  he  looked  on  the  ground  in  a  whirl  of  thought 
He  saw  his  own  form  on  the  carpet  wrought, 
Where  a  bed  was  figured  of  silk  and  brocade, 
And  himself  by  the  side  of  Zulaikha  laid. 
From  the  pictured  carpet  he  looked  in  quest 
Of  a  spot  where  his  eye  might,  untroubled,  rest. 
He  looked  on  the  wall,  on  the  door ;  the  pair 
Of  rose-lipped  lovers  was  painted  there. 
He  lifted  his  glance  to  the  Lord  of  the  skies  : 
That  pair  from  the  ceiling  still  met  his  eyes. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikba.  485 

Then  the  heart  of  Yusuf  would  fain  relent, 

And  a  tender  look  on  Zulaikha  he  bent, 

While  a  thrill  of  hope  through  her  bosom  passed 

That  the  blessed  sun  would  shine  forth  at  last. 

The  hot  tears  welled  from  her  heart  to  her  eyes, 

And  she  poured  out  her  voice  in  a  storm  of  sighs  : 

"  List  to  my  prayer,  thou  sweet  rebel,  and  calm 

The  pangs  of  my  heart  with  thy  healing  balm. 

Thou  art  Life's  Water  :  these  lips  are  dry ; 

Thou  art  life  forever  :  I  faint  and  die. 

As  thirsty  eyes  when  no  water  they  see, 

As  the  dead  without  hope,  so  am  I  without  thee. 

For  many  years  has  my  heart  in  its  love  for  thee  bled. 

And,  fasting,  outworn,  I  have  tossed  on  my  bed. 

Oh,  let  me  no  longer  in  misery  weep  : 

Give  my  body  its  food,  give  mine  eyelids  their  sleep, 

Oh,  hear  my  entreaties  :  on  thee  I  call 

In  the  name  of  God  who  is  Lord  over  all ; 

By  the  excellent  bloom  of  that  cheek  which  He  gave, 

By  that   beauty  which  makes    the  whole  world    thy 

slave  ; 
By  the  splendor  that  beams  from  thy  beautiful  brow 
That  bids  the  full  moon  to  thy  majesty  bow ; 
By  the  graceful  gait  of  that  cypress,  by 
The  delicate  bow  that  is  bent  o'er  thine  eye ; 
By  that  arch  of  the  temple  devoted  to  prayer, 
By  each  fine-woven  mesh  of  the  toils  of  thy  hair ; 
By  that  charming  narcissus,  that  form  arrayed 
In  the  sheen  and  glory  of  silk  brocade ; 
By  that  secret  thou  callest  a  mouth,  by  the  hair 


486  Jamu 

Thou  callest  the  waist  of  that  body  most  fair ; 

By  the  musky  spots  on  thy  cheek's  pure  rose, 

By  the  smile  of  thy  lips  when  those  buds  unclose  \ 

By  my  longing  tears,  by  the  sigh  and  groan 

That  rend  my  heart  as  I  pine  alone ; 

By  thine  absence,  a  mountain  too  heavy  to  bear, 

By  my  thousand  fetters  of  grief  and  care ; 

By  the  sovereign  sway  of  my  passion,  by 

My  carelessness  whether  I  live  or  die ; 

Pity  me,  pity  my  love-lorn  grief : 

Loosen  my  fetters  and  grant  relief : 

An  age  has  scorched  me  since  over  my  soul 

The  soft  sweet  air  of  thy  garden  stole. 

Be  the  balms  of  my  wounds  for  a  little  ;  shed 

Sweet  scent  on  the  heart  where  the  flowers  are  dead. 

I  hunger  for  thee  till  my  whole  frame  is  weak : 

Oh,  give  me  the  food  for  my  soul  which  I  seek." 

"Fair  daughter,"  said  he,  "of  the  Peri  race  — 

But  no  Peri  can  match  thee  in  form  or  face  — 

Tempt  me  no  more  to  a  deed  of  shame, 

Nor  break  the  fair  glass  of  a  stainless  name. 

Drag  not  my  skirts  through  the  dust  and  mire, 

Nor  fill  my  veins  with  unholy  fire. 

By  the  Living  God,  the  great  Soul  of  all, 

Inner  and  outward  and  great  and  small, 

From  whose  ocean  this  world  like  a  bubble  rose, 

And  the  sun  by  the  flash  of  His  splendor  glows ; 

By  the  holy  line  of  my  fathers,  whence 

I  have  learned  the  fair  beauty  of  innocence  ; 

From  whom  I  inherit  my  spirit's  light, 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikba.  487 

And  through  them  is  the  star  of  my  fortune  bright ; 

If  thou  wilt  but  leave  me  this  day  in  peace, 

And  my  troubled  soul  from  this  snare  release, 

Thou  shalt  see  thy  servant  each  wish  obey, 

And  with  faith  unshaken  thy  grace  repay. 

The  lips  of  thy  darling  to  thine  shall  be  pressed, 

And  the  arms  that  thou  lovest  shall  lull  thee  to  rest. 

Haste  not  too  fast  to  the  goal :   delay 

Is  often  more  blessed  than  speed  on  the  way, 

And  the  first  paltry  capture  is  ever  surpassed 

By  the  nobler  game  that  is  netted  at  last." 

Zulaikha  answered  :  "  Ah,  never  think 
That  the  thirsty  will  wait  for  the  morrow  to  drink. 
My  spirit  has  rushed  to  my  lips,  and  how 
Can  I  wait  for  the  joy  that  I  long  for  now? 
My  heart  has  no  power  to  watch  and  wait 
For  the  tender  bliss  that  will  come  so  late. 
Thy  pleading  is  weak,  and  no  cause  I  see 
Why  thou  shouldst  not  this  moment  be  happy  with  me." 

Then  Yusuf  answered  :  "  Two  things  I  fear  — 
The  judgment  of  God,  and  the  Grand  Vizir. 
If  the  master  knew  of  the  shameful  deed, 
With  a  hundred  sorrows  my  heart  would  bleed. 
Full  well  thou  knowest  my  furious  lord 
Would  strike  me  dead  with  his  lifted  sword. 
And  think  of  the  shame  that  the  sin  would  lay 
On  my  guilty  soul  at  the  Judgment  Day, 
When  the  awful  book  is  unclosed  wherein 
Recording  angels  have  scored  my  sin." 

"  Fear  not  thy  master,"  Zulaikha  cried; 


488  Jami. 

"  At  some  high  feast  when  I  sit  by  his  side, 
A  poisoned  cup  from  this  hand  shall  he  take, 
And  sleep  till  Doomsday  shall  bid  him  wake. 
And  the  God  thou  servest,  I  hear  thee  say, 
Pardons  His  creatures  who  err  and  stray. 
Still,  their  sole  mistress,  the  keys  I  hold 
Of  a  hundred  vaults  full  of  gems  and  gold. 
All  this  will  I  give  to  atone  for  thy  sin, 
And  thy  God's  forgiveness  will  surely  win." 

"  Ne'er  can  my  heart,"  he  made  answer,  "  incline 
To  injure  another  by  deed  of  mine ; 
Least  of  all  my  lord,  who  with  tender  thought 
Bade  thee  cherish  and  honor  the  slave  he  bought. 
And  will  my  God,  whom  no  thanks  can  pay, 
Take  a  bribe  to  pardon  my  sin  to-day? 
Shall  the  grace  which  a  life  cannot  buy  be  sold 
By  the  Living  God  for  thy  gems  and  gold?  " 

"  O  King,"  she  said,  "  to  high  fortune  born, 
May  throne  and  crown  be  thine  to  adorn  ! 
My  soul  is  the  mark  of  the  arrows  of  pain, 
And  excuse  on  excuse  thou  hast  marshalled  in  vain. 
Crooked,  contemptible,  all  unmeet 
For  a  noble  heart  is  the  way  of  deceit. 
God  grant  that  my  heart  from  deceit  may  be  free, 
And  let  me  not  hear  these  pretences  from  thee. 
I  am  sorely  troubled  :  oh,  give  me  rest ; 
Grant,  willing,  unwilling,  this  one  request. 
In  words,  idle  words,  have  my  days  passed  by, 
And  ne'er  with  my  wishes  wouldst  thou  comply. 
A  truce  to  pretences,  or  thou  wilt  repent 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  489 

That  thine  eye  would  not  glow  nor  thy  heart  relent. 

A  fierce  flame  has  lighted  the  reeds  of  my  heart ; 

Thou  canst  look  on  the  flame  and  stand  heedless  apart. 

What  boots  it  to  burn  in  this  flame  of  desire, 

If  thine  eyes  be  undimmed  by  the  smoke  of  the  fire? 

Come,  pour  a  cool  stream  on  the  hot  flame,  if  I 

Fail  to  melt  thy  cold  heart  with  the  heat  of  a  sigh," 

For  new  excuses  his  lips  unclosed, 

But  with  swift  impatience  she  interposed  : 

"  My  time  thou  hast  stolen  while  fondly  I  hung 

On  the  guiling  words  of  thy  Hebrew  tongue. 

No  more  evasion  :  my  wish  deny, 

And  by  mine  own  hand  will  I  surely  die. 

Unless  thy  warm  arm  round  my  neck  I  feel, 

I  will  sever  that  neck  with  the  biting  steel. 

If  fondly  around  me  thou  wilt  not  cling, 

A  streak  of  my  blood  shall  thy  neck  enring. 

A  lily-like  dagger  shall  rend  my  side, 

And  my  smock  in  blood  like  a  rose  shall  be  dyed. 

Then  shall  my  soul  and  my  body  part, 

And  thy  guile  no  longer  distress  my  heart. 

My  lifeless  corse  the  Vizir  will  see, 

And  the  crime  of  the  murder  will  rest  on  thee. 

Then  under  the  earth,  when  the  doom  is  passed, 

Near  this  loving  heart  thou  wilt  lie  at  last." 

She  drew  from  the  pillow,  distraught  with  grief, 

A  dagger  gray  as  a  willow  leaf. 

And,  fierce  with  the  fire  of  fever,  laid 

To  her  thirsty  throat  the  bright  cold  blade. 

Up  sprang  Yusuf;  his  fingers'  hold 


490  Jami. 

Circled  her  wrist  like  a  bracelet  of  gold. 

"  Master  this  passion,  Zulaikha,"  he  cried ; 

"  Turn  from  thy  folly,  oh,  turn  aside. 

Wilt  thou  not  strive  for  the  vvished-for  goal? 

Wilt  thou  abandon  the  aim  of  my  soul?" 

She  fancied  his  heart  was  relenting ;  she  thought 

His  love  would  give  her  the  bliss  she  sought. 

The  gleaming  steel  on  the  ground  she  threw, 

And  hope  sprang  up  in  her  breast  anew. 

She  sugared  his  lip  with  a  touch  of  her  own  : 

One  arm  was  his  collar  and  one  his  zone. 

With  a  long  sweet  kiss  on  his  lips  she  hung, 
And  an  eager  arm  round  his  neck  was  flung. 

One  nook  of  the  chamber  was  dark  with  the  shade 
Of  a  curtain  that  glittered  with  gold  brocade. 
And  Yusuf  questioned  her  :  "  What  or  who 
Is  behind  the  curtain  concealed  from  view?  " 
"  It  is  he,"  she  answered,  "  to  whom,  while  I  live, 
My  faithful  service  I  still  must  give  : 
A  golden  idol  with  jewelled  eyes  — 
A  salver  of  musk  in  his  bosom  lies. 
I  bend  before  him  each  hour  of  the  day, 
And  my  head  at  his  feet  in  due  worship  lay. 
Before  his  presence  this  screen  I  drew 
To  be  out  of  the  reach  of  his  darkened  view. 
If  I  swerve  from  religion  I  would  not  be 
Where  the  angry  eyes  of  my  god  may  see." 
And  Yusuf  cried  with  a  bitter  cry  : 
"  Not  a  mite  of  the  gold  of  thy  faith  have  I. 
Thine  eye  is  abashed  before  those  that  are  dead, 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  491 

And  shrinks  from  the  sight  of  the  lifeless  in  dread. 
And  God  almighty  shall  I  not  fear, 
Who  liveth  and  seeth  and  ever  is  near?" 

He  ceased  :  from  the  fond  dream  of  rapture  he  woke  ; 
From  the  arms  of  Zulaikha  he  struggled  and  broke. 
With  hasty  feet  from  her  side  he  sped, 
And  burst  open  each  door  on  his  way  as  he  fled. 
Bolt  and  bar  from  the  stanchions  he  drew  — 
All  open  before  him  as  onward  he  flew. 
Of  his  lifted  finger  a  key  was  made, 
WThich  every  lock  at  a  sign  obeyed. 
But  Zulaikha  caught  him,  with  steps  more  fast, 
Or  ever  the  farthest  chamber  he  passed. 
She  clutched  his  skirt  as  he  fled  amain, 
And  the  coat  from  his  shoulder  was  rent  in  twain. 
Reft  of  his  garment  he  slipped  from  her  hand 
Like  a  bud  from  its  sheath  when  the  leaves  expand. 
She  rent  her  robe  in  her  anguish  ;  low 
On  the  earth,  like  a  shadow,  she  lay  in  her  woe. 
A  bitter  cry  from  her  heart  she  sent, 
And  uttered  these  words  in  her  wild  lament : 
"  Ah,  woe  is  me  for  my  luckless  fate  ! 
He  has  left  my  heart  empty  and  desolate. 
Ah,  that  the  game  from  my  net  should  slip  ! 
Ah,  that  the  honey  should  mock  my  lip  ! 
A  spider  once,  I  have  heard  them  say, 
Went  forth  in  its  hunger  to  hunt  for  prey. 
On  a  bough  a  falcon  had  taken  her  stand, 
Who  had  fled  from  her  rest  on  a  royal  hand. 
The  spider  would  weave  round  her  wings  a  snare 


492  J  a  mi. 

To  hinder  her  flight  through  the  fields  of  air. 

It  labored  long  on  this  toil  intent 

Till  all  the  fine  threads  of  its  store  were  spent. 

At  length  the  falcon  her  pinions  spread, 

And  the  spider  had  naught  but  the  broken  thread. 

I  am  that  spider  :   I  weep  and  moan, 

The  single  hope  of  my  heart  o'erthrown. 

The  vein  of  my  heart  is  the  broken  thread, 

And  the  bird  whom  I  hoped  to  ensnare  is  fled. 

Each  tie  to  my  life  is  now  broken  in  twain, 

And  the  severed  ends  in  my  hand  remain." 

The  False  Charge. 

The  pen  that  has  written  this  tale  relates, 

That  when  Yusuf  fled  through  the  palace  gates, 

Soon  as  his  foot  in  the  court  was  set, 

The  Grand  Vizir  and  his  lords  he  met. 

The  master  looked  on  his  troubled  face 

And  questioned  him  wherefore  he  fled  apace. 

Yusuf  was  ready  with  apt  reply, 

And  with  courteous  words  put  the  question  by. 

The  Grand  Vizir  took  his  hand  in  his  own, 

And  they  came  where  Zulaikha  sat  brooding  alone, 

She  saw  them  together,  and  cried,  dismayed, 

To  her  own  sad  spirit,  "  Betrayed  !  betrayed  !  " 

Moved  by  the  fancy,  in  loud  lament, 

The  veil  of  the  secret  she  raised  and  rent : 

"  O  Balance  of  Justice,  what  sentence  is  due 

To  him  who  to  folly  thy  wife  would  woo  ? 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  493 

And,  false  to  his  duty,  has  plotted  within 

The  folds  of  his  treason  a  deed  of  sin?  " 

"  Speak,  fairest  one,  speak  :  let  thy  tale  be  clear. 

Who  has  thus  dared?"  said  the  Grand  Vizir. 

"The  Hebrew  servant,"  she  cried,  "has  done 

This  thing,  whom  thy  favor  hast  made  a  son. 

Freed  from  the  trouble  and  toil  of  the  day, 

Here  in  my  chamber  asleep  I  lay, 

He  came  to  the  bed  where  alone  I  repose, 

And  would  pluck  the  flower  of  the  spotless  rose ; 

But  the  hand  of  the  robber  my  slumber  broke, 

With  a  start  and  a  cry  from  my  rest  I  woke. 

He  started  in  fear  when  I  raised  my  head, 

And  swift  to  the  door  of  the  chamber  fled. 

He  fled  amain,  but  I  followed  fast 

And  caught  him  ere  yet  from  the  palace  he  passed. 

I  caught  his  garment,  my  strength  outspent, 

And  it  split  as  the  leaf  of  a  rose  is  rent. 

The  garment  he  wears  on  his  shoulders  view, 

And  see  that  the  words  which  I  speak  are  true. 

Now  were  it  best  for  a  little  time 

To  send  him  to  prison  to  mourn  his  crime ; 

Or  let  the  sharp  lash  on  his  tender  skin 

Cure  the  wild  boy  of  his  wish  to  sin. 

Let  the  scourge  be  heavy,  the  pain  severe, 

That  others  in  time  may  be  warned  and  fear." 

The  Grand  Vizir  in  amazement  heard  : 

His  visage  changed  and  his  heart  was  stirred, 

From  the  path  of  justice  he  turned  aside, 

And  his  tongue  was  a  sword  of  rebuke  as  he  cried  : 


494  Jami. 

"  Treasures  of  pearl  and  of  gold  I  gave, 

When  I  weighed  out  my  jewels  to  purchase  my  slave. 

I  made  thee  my  son  of  mine  own  free  grace, 

And  gave  thee  beside  me  an  honored  place. 

I  gave  thee  Zukaikha  for  guardian  to  tend 

Thy  youth  with  her  maidens  and  be  thy  friend. 

The  slaves  of  my  household  obeyed  thy  will ; 

They  were  gentle  in  speech  and  ne'er  wished  thee  ill. 

I  made  thee  lord  over  all  that  I  had, 

And  never  would  suffer  thy  heart  to  be  sad. 

A  folly  and  sin  was  this  thought  of  thine  : 

May  God  forgive  thee  the  base  design. 

In  this  evil  world,  full  of  grief  and  woe, 

Kindness  responsive  to  kindness  we  owe. 

But  thou,  all  my  love  and  my  trust  betrayed, 

My  tender  affection  with  ill  hast  repaid. 

Thou  hast  broken  the  bond  which  the  meal  had  tied, 

And  the  pledge  which  the  salt  had  sanctified." 

At  the  wrathful  words  of  the  Grand  Vizir 
He  shrank  like  a  hair  when  the  flame  is  near. 
He  cried  to  his  master  :   "  How  long,  how  long 
Wilt  thou  burden  the  guiltless  with  cruel  wrong? 
False  is  the  tale  that  Zulaikha  has  told  : 
Her  lie  is  a  lamp  when  the  flame  is  cold. 
From  the  man's  left  side  came  the  woman.     Who 
Will  hope  that  the  left  will  be  right  and  true? 
From  the  day  Zulaikha  beheld  me  first, 
A  frantic  passion  her  heart  has  nursed. 
About  me  ever  she  comes  and  goes, 
And  with  soft  allurement  her  fancy  shows. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  495 

But  ne'er  have  I  lifted  mine  eye  to  her  face, 

Ne'er  have  I  looked  for  a  kiss  or  embrace. 

Who  am  I,  thy  servant,  that  I  should  be 

The  tempter  of  her  who  is  sacred  to  thee? 

From  earthly  wealth  I  had  turned  away, 

To  the  pangs  of  exile  my  heart  was  a  prey. 

A  word  from  Zulaikha  bade  doors  unclose, 

And  opened  a  way  to  a  hundred  woes. 

She  called  me  hither  —  her  spells  were  sweet  — 

And  drew  me  aside  to  this  lone  retreat. 

With  passionate  pleading  her  love  she  pressed, 

And  made  my  bosom  a  stranger  to  rest. 

By  many  a  bar  for  a  while  detained, 

The  gate  of  the  palace  at  length  I  gained. 

She  followed  fast  as  I  fled,  and  tore 

Behind  from  the  shoulder  the  coat  I  wore. 

This  is  the  story  I  have  to  tell : 

This,  only  this  and  no  more,  befell. 

If  thou  wilt  not  believe  I  am  free  from  guilt, 

In  the  name  of  Allah  do  what  thou  wilt." 

Zulaikha  heard,  and  in  self-defence 
Called  Heaven  to  witness  her  innocence. 
She  swore  an  oath  on  each  sacred  thing, 
By  the  throne,  and  the  crown,  and  the  head  of  the  king, 
By  the  rank  and  state  of  the  Grand  Vizir 
Whom  the  monarch  honored  and  held  so  dear. 

When  trouble  and  doubt  in  a  suit  arise, 
An  oath  the  place  of  a  witness  supplies. 
But  ah,  how  oft,  when  the  truth  is  known, 
Has  the  shameless  lie  of  that  oath  been  shown  ! 


496  Jami. 

Then  she  cried,  as  her  tears  in  a  torrent  ran  : 

"From  Yusuf  only  the  folly  began." 

Tears,  ever  ready  to  flow,  supply 

Oil  for  the  lamp  of  a  woman's  lie. 

Fed  with  this  oil  the  flame  waxes  in  power 

And  destroys  a  whole  world  in  one  little  hour. 

The  oath  of  Zulaikha,  the  sob,  the  tear, 
Shut  the  blinded  eye  of  the  Grand  Vizir. 
He  gave  a  sergeant  his  order,  like 
The  strings  of  a  lute  the  boy's  heart  to  strike, 
Tlmt  the  vein  of  his  soul  might  be  racked  with  pain, 
And  no  trace  of  compassion  or  mercy  remain ; 
That  the  boy  should  be  lodged  in  the  prison  till 
They  had  thoroughly  fathomed  the  secret  ill. 

The  Infant  Witness. 

His  hand  on  Yusuf  the  sergeant  laid, 
And  straight  to  the  prison  his  way  he  made. 
The  heart  of  the  captive  with  woe  was  rent, 
And  the  eye  of  complaint  on  the  sky  he  bent : 
"Thou  who  knowest  all  hearts,"  he  cried, 
"  And  every  secret  which  men  would  hide  ; 
Who  discernest  the  true  from  the  false,  whose  might 
Save  Thine  only  can  bring  this  secret  to  light? 
Since  the  lamp  of  truth  in  thy  heart  Thou  hast  placed, 
Let  me  not  with  the  charge  of  a  lie  be  disgraced. 
Bear  witness  against  mine  accuser,  I  pray, 
That  my  truth  may  be  clear  as  the  light  of  day." 
He  spoke  in  his  sorrow ;  and  straight  to  its  aim 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  497 

The  shaft  of  his  prayer  from  his  spirit  came. 
In  the  court  was  a  dame,  to  Zulaikha  allied, 
Who  was  night  and  day  by  Zulaikha's  side. 
With  her  babe  on  her  bosom  but  three  months  old 
She  seemed  her  own  soul  in  her  arms  to  hold. 
No  line  in  the  volume  of  life  had  it  read, 
And  its  tongue  like  a  lily's  no  word  had  said. 
But  it  cried  :  "  Vizir,  be  thy  judgment  more  slow, 
And  beware  of  the  haste  that  will  end  in  woe. 
No  stain  of  sin  upon  Yusuf  lies, 
But  he  merits  the  grace  of  thy  favoring  eyes." 
In  courteous  words  spake  the  Grand  Vizir 
In  reply  to  the  speech  which  he  marvelled  to  hear : 
"  O  thou  whom  God  teaches  to  speak  while  yet 
With  the  milk  of  thy  mother  thy  lips  are  wet, 
Speak  clearly  and  say  who  lighted  the  flame 
That  has  threatened  the  screen  of  my  honor  and  fame." 
"  No  informer  am  I,"  said  the  babe,  "  to  reveal 
The  secret  another  would  fain  conceal. 
The  tell-tale  musk  is  so  black  in  its  hue, 
For  no  folds  will  imprison  the  scent  that  steals  through  ; 
And  the  screen  of  the  petals  that  round  her  cling, 
Gives  a  charm  to  the  smile  of  the  rose  in  Spring. 
No  secret  I  utter,  no  tale  I  tell, 
But  I  give  thee  a  hint  which  will  serve  thee  well. 
Go  hence  to  Yusuf;  examine  and  note, 
As  he  lies  in  the  prison,  the  rent  in  his  coat. 
If  the  rent  in  the  front  of  the  garment  appear, 
The  skirt  of  Zulaikha  from  soil  is  clear. 
There  is  then  no  light  in  the  charge  he  brings, 


498  Jami. 

And  the  stain  of  a  lie  to  his  story  clings. 
But  if  rent  be  the  back  of  the  garment,  he 
From  charge  of  falsehood  and  slander  is  free. 
Then  faithless  Zulaikha  has  turned  aside 
From  the  path  of  truth  and  has  basely  lied." 

The  Grand  Vizir  to  the  prison  went, 
And  summoned  Yusuf,  to  view  the  rent. 
He  saw  that  the  garment  was  torn  behind ; 
And  he  cried  to  that  woman  of  evil  mind  : 
"  Thou  hast  forged  a  lie,  and  thine  art  has  sent 
The  innocent  boy  to  imprisonment. 
What  hast  thou  gained  by  thy  crafty  toils 
Since  the  shame  of  thy  deed  on  thyself  recoils  ? 
Thou  hast  left  the  straight  path  and  hast  sullied  thy 

name, 
By  wooing  thy  slave  to  a  deed  of  shame, 
From  the  path  of  honor  thy  feet  have  strayed, 
And  on  him  the  guilt  of  thy  sin  thou  hast  laid. 
The  arts  and  wiles  of  a  woman  rend 
The  heart  of  a  man,  and  they  never  will  end. 
Those  who  are  noble  they  bring  to  naught, 
And  the  wisest  hearts  in  their  toils  are  caught. 
O  that  men  from  the  plague  of  their  arts  were  free  ! 
O  that  treacherous  woman  might  cease  to  be  ! 
Begone  :  on  thy  knees  in  repentance  fall, 
And  pray  for  forgiveness,  thy  face  to  the  wall. 
Let  the  tears  of  contrition  thy  penitence  grace, 
And  the  blot  from  thy  volume  of  life  efface. 
And,  Yusuf,  set  on  thy  lips  a  seal : 
This  tale  of  dishonor  to  none  reveal. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  499 

Enough  that  thy  speech — for  thy  words  were  wise  — 
Has  shown  thee  guiltless  and  opened  mine  eyes." 
He  spoke ;   then  he  turned  from  the  prison  :   and 
food 
For  tale  and  jest  was  his  clement  mood. 
Ah  yes  ;  it  is  good  to  forgive  and  forget ; 
But  bounds  e'en  to  mercy  itself  should  be  set. 
If  the  man  be  too  mild  when  the  woman  sins, 
There  ends  good-nature,  and  folly  begins. 
Too  patient  a  part,  should  thy  wife  offend, 
Makes  a  rift  in  thine  honor  which  naught  can  mend. 

The  Women  of  Memphis. 

Love  is  ill  suited  with  peace  and  rest : 

Scorn  and  reproaches  become  him  best. 

Rebuke  gives  strength  to  his  tongue,  and  blame 

Wakes  the  dull  spark  to  a  brighter  flame. 

Blame  is  the  censor  of  Love's  bazaar : 

It  suffers  no  rust  the  pure  splendor  to  mar. 

Blame  is  the  whip  whose  impending  blow 

Speeds  the  willing  lover  and  wakes  the  slow ; 

And  the  weary  steed  who  can  hardly  crawl 

Is  swift  of  foot  when  reproaches  fall. 

When  the  rose  of  the  secret  had  opened  and  blown, 

The  voice  of  reproach  was  a  bulbul  in  tone.1 

The  women  of  Memphis,  who  heard  the  tale  first, 

The  whispered  slander  received  and  nursed. 

1  An  allusion  to  the  bulbul's  love  of  the  rose,  whose  beauty  he 
sings. 


500  Jami. 

Then,  attacking  Zulaikha  for  right  and  wrong, 

Their  uttered  reproaches  were  loud  and  long : 

"  Heedless  of  honor  and  name  she  gave 

The  love  of  her  heart  to  the  Hebrew  slave, 

Who  lies  so  deep  in  her  soul  enshrined 

That  to  sense  and  religion  her  eyes  are  blind. 

She  loves  her  servant.     Tis  strange  to  think 

That  erring  folly  so  low  can  sink ; 

But  stranger  still  that  the  slave  she  wooes 

Should  scorn  her  suit  and  her  love  refuse. 

His  cold  eye  to  hers  he  never  will  raise ; 

He  never  will  walk  in  the  path  where  she  strays. 

He  stops  if  before  him  her  form  he  sees ; 

If  she  lingers  a  moment  he  turns  and  flees. 

When  her  lifted  veil  leaves  her  cheek  exposed, 

With  the  stud  of  his  eyelash  his  eye  is  closed. 

If  she  weeps  in  her  sorrow  he  laughs  at  her  pain, 

And  closes  each  door  that  she  opens  in  vain. 

It  may  be  that  her  form  is  not  fair  in  his  eyes, 

And  his  cold  heart  refuses  the  proffered  prize. 

If  once  her  beloved  one  sat  with  us 

He  would  sit  with  us  ever,  not  treat  us  thus. 

Our  sweet  society  never  would  he  leave, 

But  joy  unending  would  give  and  receive. 

But  not  all  have  this  gift  in  their  hands  :  to  enthrall 

The  heart  they  would  win  is  not  given  to  all. 

There  is  many  a  woman,  fair,  good,  and  kind, 

To  whom  never  the  heart  of  a  man  inclined ; 

And  many  a  Laili  with  soft  black  eye, 

The  tears  of  whose  heart-blood  are  never  dry." 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  501 

Zulaikha  heard,  and  resentment  woke 
To  punish  the  dames  for  the  words  they  spoke. 
She  summoned  them  all  from  the  city  to  share 
A  sumptuous  feast  which  she  bade  prepare. 
A  delicate  banquet  meet  for  kings 
Was  spread  with  the  choicest  of  dainty  things. 
Cups  filled  with  sherbet  of  every  hue 
Shone  as  rifts  in  a  cloud  when  the  sun  gleams  through. 
There  were  goblets  of  purest  crystal  filled 
With  wine  and  sweet  odors  with  art  distilled. 
The  golden  cloth  blazed  like  the  sunlight ;  a  whole 
Cluster  of  stars  was  each  silver  bowl. 
From  goblet  and  charger  rare  odors  came ; 
There  was  strength  for  the  spirit  and  food  for  the  frame. 
All  daintiest  fare  that  your  lip  would  taste, 
From  fish  to  fowl,  on  the  cloth  was  placed. 
It  seemed  that  the  fairest  their  teeth  had  lent 
For  almonds,  their  lips  for  the  sugar  sent. 
A  mimic  palace  rose  fair  to  view 
Of  a  thousand  sweets  of  each  varied  hue, 
Where  instead  of  a  carpet  the  floor  was  made 
With  bricks  of  candy  and  marmalade. 
Fruit  in  profusion,  of  sorts  most  rare, 
Piled  in  baskets,  bloomed  fresh  and  fair. 
Those  who  looked  on  their  soft  transparency  felt 
That  the  delicate  pulp  would  dissolve  and  melt. 
Bands  of  boys  and  young  maidens,  fine 
As  mincing  peacocks,  were  ranged  in  line ; 
And  the  fair  dames  of  Memphis,  like  Peris  eyed, 
In  a  ring  on  their  couches  sat  side  by  side. 


502  Jami. 

They  tasted  of  all  that  they  fancied,  and  each 
Was  courteous  in  manner  and  gentle  in  speech. 

The  feast  was  ended  ;  the  cloth  was  raised, 
And  Zulaikha  sweetly  each  lady  praised. 
Then  she  set,  as  she  planned  in  her  wily  breast, 
A  knife  and  an  orange  beside  each  guest : 
An  orange,  to  purge  the  dark  thoughts  within 
Each  jaundiced  heart  with  its  golden  skin. 
One  hand,  as  she  bade  them  the  orange  clasped, 
The  knife  in  the  other  was  firmly  grasped. 
Thus  she  addressed  them  :  "  Dames  fair  and  sweet, 
Most  lovely  of  all  when  the  fairest  meet, 
Why  should  my  pleasure  your  hearts  annoy? 
Why  blame  me  for  loving  my  Hebrew  boy? 
If  your  eyes  with  the  light  of  his  eyes  were  filled, 
Each  tongue  that  blames  me  were  hushed  and  stilled. 
I  will  bid  him  forth,  if  you  all  agree, 
And  bring  him  near  for  your  eyes  to  see." 
"  This,  even  this,"  cried  each  eager  dame, 
"  Is  the  dearest  wish  our  hearts  can  frame. 
Bid  him  come ;  let  us  look  on  the  lovely  face 
That  shall  stir  our  hearts  with  its  youthful  grace. 
Already  charmed,  though  our  eyes  never  fell 
On  the  youth  we  long  for,  we  love  him  well. 
These  oranges  still  in  our  hands  we  hold, 
To  sweeten  the  spleen  with  their  skins  of  gold. 
But  they  please  us  not,  for  he  is  not  here  : 
Let  not  one  be  cut  till  the  boy  appear." 

She  sent  the  nurse  to  address  him  thus  : 
"  Come,  free-waving  cypress,  come  forth  to  us. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  503 

Let  us  worship  the  ground  which  thy  dear  feet  press, 
And  bow  down  at  the  sight  of  thy  loveliness. 
Let  our  love-stricken  hearts  be  thy  chosen  retreat, 
And  our  eyes  a  soft  carpet  beneath  thy  feet." 

But  he  came  not  forth,  like  a  lingering  rose 
Which  the  spell  of  the  charmer  has  failed  to  unclose. 
Then  Zulaikha  flew  to  the  house  where  he  dwelt, 
And  in  fond  entreaty  before  him  knelt : 
"  My  darling,  the  light  of  these  longing  eyes, 
Hope  of  my  heart,"  thus  she  spoke  with  sighs, 
"  I  fed  on  the  hope  which  thy  words  had  given  : 
But  that  hope  from  my  breast  by  despair  is  driven 
For  thee  have  I  forfeited  all :  my  name 
Through  thee  has  been  made  a  reproach  and  shame. 
I  have  found  no  favor  :  thou  wouldst  not  fling 
One  pitying  look  on  so  mean  a  thing. 
Yet  let  not  the  women  of  Memphis  see 
That  I  am  so  hated  and  scorned  by  thee. 
Come,  sprinkle  the  salt  of  thy  lip  to  cure 
The  wounds  of  my  heart  and  the  pain  I  endure. 
Let  the  salt  be  sacred  :  repay  the  debt 
Of  the  faithful  love  thou  shouldst  never  forget." 

The  heart  of  Yusuf  grew  soft  at  the  spell 
Of  her  gentle  words,  for  she  charmed  so  well. 
Swift  as  the  wind  from  her  knees  she  rose, 
And  decked  him  gay  with  the  garb  she  chose. 
Over  his  shoulders  she  drew  with  care, 
The  scented  locks  of  his  curling  hair, 
Like  serpents  of  jet-black  lustre  seen 
With  their  twisted  coils  where  the  grass  is  green. 


504  Jatni. 

A  girdle  gleaming  with  gold,  round  the  waist 
That  itself  was  fine  as  a  hair,  she  braced. 
I  marvel 'so  dainty  a  waist  could  bear 
The  weight  of  the  jewels  that  glittered  there. 
She  girt  his  brow  with  bright  gems ;  each  stone 
Of  wondrous  beauty  enhanced  his  own. 
On  his  shoes  were  rubies  and  many  a  gem, 
And  pearls  on  the  latchets  that  fastened  them. 
A  scarf,  on  whose  every  thread  was  strung 
A  loving  heart,  on  his  arm  was  hung. 
A  golden  ewer  she  gave  him  to  hold, 
And  a  maid  brow-bound  with  a  fillet  of  gold 
In  her  hand  a  basin  of  silver  bore, 
And  shadow-like  moved  as  he  walked  before. 
If  a  damsel  had  looked,  she  at  once  had  resigned 
All  joy  of  her  life,  all  the  peace  of  her  mind. 
Too  weak  were  my  tongue  if  it  tried  to  express 
The  charm  of  his  wonderful  loveliness. 
Like  a  bed  of  roses  in  perfect  bloom 
That  secret  treasure  appeared  in  the  room. 
The  women  of  Memphis  beheld  him,  and  took 
From  that  garden  of  glory  the  rose  of  a  look. 
One  glance  at  his  beauty  o'erpovvered  each  soul 
And  drew  from  their  fingers  the  reins  of  control. 
Each  lady  would  cut  through  the  orange  she  held, 
As  she  gazed  on  that  beauty  unparalleled. 
But  she  wounded  her  finger,  so  moved  in  her  heart, 
That  she  knew  not  her  hand  and  the  orange  apart. 
One  made  a  pen  of  her  finger,  to  write 
On  her  soul  his  name  who  had  ravished  her  sight  — 


Ynsuf  and  Zulaikha.  50S 

A  reed  which,  struck  with  the  point  of  the  knife, 

Poured  out  a  red  flood  from  each  joint  in  the  strife. 

One  scored  a  calendar's  lines  in  red 

On  the  silver  sheet  of  her  palm  outspread, 

And   each   column,    marked   with   the   blood   drops, 

showed 
Like   a   brook   when   the    stream  o'er   the  bank  has 
flowed. 

When  they  saw  that  youth  in  his  beauty's  pride  : 
"  No  mortal  is  he,"  in  amaze  they  cried. 
"  No  clay  and  water  composed  his  frame, 
But,  a  holy  angel,  from  heaven  he  came." 
"  Tis  my  peerless  boy,"  cried  Zulaikha,  "  long 
For  him  have  I  suffered  reproach  and  wrong. 
I  told  him  my  love  for  him,  called  him  the  whole 
Aim  and  desire  of  my  heart  and  soul. 
He  looked  on  me  coldly ;  I  bent  not  his  will 
To  give  me  his  love  and  my  hope  fulfil. 
He  still  rebelled  :  I  was  forced  to  send 
To  prison  the  boy  whom  I  could  not  bend. 
In  trouble  and  toil,  under  lock  and  chain, 
He  passed  long  days  in  affliction  and  pain. 
But  his  spirit  was  tamed  by  the  woe  he  felt, 
And  the  heart  that  was  hardened  began  to  melt. 
Keep  your  wild  bird  in  a  cage  and  see 
How  soon  he  forgets  that  he  once  was  free." 

Of  those  who  wounded  their  hands  a  part 
Lost  reason  and  patience,  and  mind  and  heart. 
Too  weak  the  sharp  sword  of  his  love  to  stay, 
They  gave  up  their  souls  ere  they  moved  away. 


506  Jami. 

The  reason  of  others  grew  dark  and  dim, 

And  madness  possessed  them  for  love  of  him. 

Bareheaded,  barefooted,  they  fled  amain, 

And  the  light  that  had  vanished  never  kindled  again. 

To  some  their  senses  at  length  returned, 

But  their  hearts  were  wounded,  their  bosoms  burned. 

They  were  drunk  with  the  cup  which  was  full  to  the 

brim, 
And  the  birds  of  their  hearts  were  ensnared  by  him. 
Nay,  Yusuf  s  love  was  a  mighty  bowl 
With  varied  power  to  move  the  soul. 
One  drank  the  wine  till  her  senses  reeled ; 
To  another,  life  had  no  joy  to  yield  ; 
One  offered  her  soul  his  least  wish  to  fulfil ; 
One  dreamed  of  him  ever,  but  mute  and  still. 
But  only  the  woman  to  whom  no  share 
Of  the  wine  was  vouchsafed  could  be  pitied  there. 

Threats. 

When  many  rivals  compete,  the  prize 
Waxes  more  dear  in  the  winner's  eyes, 
When  another  loves  the  fair  maid  you  seek, 
The  love  grows  strong  that  before  was  weak, 
And  the  flame  that  languished  bursts  forth  anew 
When  eager  rivals  come  near  to  sue. 
The  flame  fed  afresh  on  Zulaikha's  mind, 
And  her  heart  more  strongly  to  Yusuf  inclined. 
Again  she  spoke  to  that  lovely  band, 
Whom  love  had  wounded  in  heart  and  hand  : 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikba.  507 

11  If  ye  think  I  had  reason,  forbear  to  chide 
And  blame  me  for  love  which  I  could  not  hide. 
The  door  of  friendship  is  open  ;  be 
Friends  in  my  trouble  and  prosper  me." 

They  swept  the  chords  of  love's  lute  and  raised 
Their  voices  in  tune  and  excused  and  praised. 
"  Yes,  he  is  lord  of  the  realm  of  the  soul ; 
There  his  is  the  right  and  the  sway  and  control. 
What  creature  that  looks  —  nay,  even  what  stone  — 
On  that  lovely  face,  calls  its  heart  its  own  ? 
If  thy  love  for  him  be  thy  sum  of  distress, 
Thine  excuse  is  sufficient,  his  loveliness. 
Breathes  there  a  mortal  beneath  the  sky, 
Who  can  look  unmoved  on  that  witching  eye  ? 
The  heaven  has  oft  compassed  the  earth,  but  where 
Has  it  seen  a  darling  so  bright  and  fair  ? 
Thou  hast  loved  the  sweet  youth,  but  thou  art  not  to 

blame, 
Thy  soul  is  afire,  but  thy  love  is  no  shame. 
May  his  strong  heart  touched  by  thy  passion  relent, 
And  shame  make  thy  darling  his  coldness  repent." 
They  ceased.     On  Yusuf  their  eyes  they  bent, 
And  addressed  him  thus  in  admonishment : 
"  Joy  of  the  age,  from  the  east  to  the  west, 
The  fame  of  thy  virtue  by  all  is  confessed. 
This  garden,  where  roses  with  thorns  we  see, 
Has  ne'er  grown  a  rose  without  thorns  like  thee. 
Stoop  down  for  a  little,  and  add  a  grace 
To  that  height  by  descent  from  thy  lofty  place0 
Zulaikha  is  dust  for  thy  feet  to  tread, 


508  Jami. 

Trail  thy  skirt  for  a  while  where  that  dust  is  spread. 

How,  O  pure  one  !    wilt  thou  be  hurt 

By  touching  the  dust  for  a  time  with  thy  skirt  ? 

One  wish  has  Zulaikha  :  no  longer  refuse 

To  grant  the  sole  favor  for  which  she  sues. 

If  thy  wish  be  to  have  no  desires  of  thine  own, 

Oh,  leave  not  the  thirsty  to  languish  alone. 

She  has  waited  on  thee,  with  thy  wishes  complied ; 

Oh,  let  not  the  meed  of  her  love  be  denied. 

Regard  her  entreaties,  no  longer  be  coy, 

For  we  fear  in  our  hearts,  O  too  beautiful  boy, 

If  thou  still  wilt  rebel  and  no  warning  wilt  heed, 

The  fruit  in  the  end  will  be  bitter  indeed. 

She  will  wash  out  thy  love  from  the   depths  of  her 

soul, 
And  a  deluge  of  fury  will  over  thee  roll. 
Beware,  and  remember  love  turned  to  hate, 
Will  press  the  old  friend  with  the  sorest  weight. 
When  over  the  bank  the  fierce  torrents  burst, 
The  mother  will  tread  on  the  child  she  nursed. 
She  threatens  a  prison.     Beware,  beware, 
And  think  of  the  pains  that  await  thee  there. 
'Tis  narrow  and  dark  like  a  tyrant's  grave, 
Far  from  it  fly  those  who  have  lives  to  save  : 
Where  the  foul  air  stifles  the  living  breath, 
Where  wretches  lie  who  are  waiting  for  death, 
The  hand  of  the  builder  has  fashioned  there 
No  narrowest  passage  for  light  or  air. 
Plague  is  the  gift  which  the  close  air  brings, 
And  its  floor  is  the  soil  whence  misery  springs. 


Yitsuf  and  Zulaikha.  509 

The  light  of  dawn  never  enters  where 

The  door  is  closed  with  the  key  of  despair. 

Narrow  and  blacker  than  pitch,  the  chains 

Are  the  only  treasure  the  vault  contains. 

There  without  bread,  without  water,  lie 

The  weary  wretches  who  fain  would  die. 

Warders  watch  over  them,  turn  by  turn, 

And  their  eyes  are  fierce  and  their  words  are  stern. 

Now  say,  shall  such  an  ill  mansion  be, 

O  heart-enslaver,  a  home  for  thee  ? 

Let  not  thy  heart  be  so  cruel ;  spare 

Thyself  and  open  the  door  to  her  prayer. 

Bend  thy  proud  head  as  a  reed  is  bent : 

Banish  all  fear  from  thy  heart,  and  consent. 

Or  if  thy  fancy  perchance  prefer 

More  winning  beauty  and  turn  from  her, 

To  us  in  secret  thy  heart  incline, 

And  be  ours  forever  as  we  are  thine. 

See,  in  our  charms  we  are  matchless ;  see, 

Moons  lighting  the  heaven  of  beauty  are  we. 

Shame  makes  Zulaikha  her  own  mouth  close 

When  we  open  our  lips  whence  the  honey  flows. 

How  can  Zulaikha  with  ,us  compare  ? 

So  sweet  are  we  and  so  bright  and  fair." 

He  heard  the  voice  of  the  charmers,  and  knew 
That  their  zeal  for  Zulaikha  was  all  untrue. 
They  would  lead  him  to  swerve  from  his  faith  and  err, 
But  more  for  the  sake  of  themselves  than  of  her. 
His  heart  was  troubled,  he  turned  aside, 
And  no  tender  look  to  their  looks  replied. 


510  Jami. 

He  lifted  to  heaven  his  hands  and  prayed : 

"  0  Thou  who  givest  the  needy  aid, 

Friend  of  the  humble  recluse,  the  sure 

Help  and  refuge  of  all  who  are  pure  ; 

Against  the  oppressor  a  strong  defence, 

The  lamp  and  beacon  of  innocence  ; 

Their  wiles  torment  me.     The  bolt,  the  bar, 

The  chains  of  the  prison  were  better  far. 

Years  in  a  dungeon  were  lighter  pain 

Than  to  look  on  the  face  of  these  women  again. 

Thus  our  hearts  grow  blind  that  we  cannot  see, 

And  we  wander  farther  and  farther  from  Thee. 

If  Thou  wilt  not  turn  their  devices  aside 

Who  have  strayed  from  the  path  and  their  faith  denied, 

Who  will  not  permit  me  to  rest  and  be  free  — 

If  Thou  wilt  not  aid  me,  ah,  woe  is  me." 

For  prison  he  prayed.     Nor  would  God  deny 
The  boon  he  sought  with  his  eager  cry. 
But  had  Yusuf  asked  at  His  hands  release, 
The  boy  unimprisoned  had  gone  in  peace. 
From  the  snares  of  the  women  the  bird  had  flown, 
And  the  pains  of  the  dungeon  he  ne'er  had  known. 

Imprisonment. 

In  vain  they  tempted  him.     No  success, 
Had  the  art  of  each  wily  idolatress. 
The  pure  soul  of  Yusuf  was  still  unmoved, 
Nay,  firmer  still  by  temptation  proved. 
And  like  bats  that  flee  ere  the  sun  is  bright, 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  511 

They  despaired  of  the  joy  of  his  beauty's  light. 

But  they  left  not  Zulaikha  a  moment's  rest, 
On  her  sorrowing  soul  their  advice  they  pressed. 
"Poor  suffering  creature,"  'twas  thus  they  cried, 
"  Unworthiest  thou  to  be  thus  denied  ; 
No  Houri's  child  is  like  Yusuf  fair, 
But  he  will  not  listen  to  grant  thy  prayer. 
We  gave  him  rebuke  and  advice  enough, 
And  the  file  of  our  tongue  we  made  sharp  and  rough. 
But  his  heart  is  hard,  and  he  will  not  feel ; 
The  file,  though  rough,  would  not  bite  the  steel. 
Let  the  forge  —  his  prison  —  be  heated,  so 
The  stubborn  iron  will  melt  and  glow. 
When  the  metal  grows  soft  in  the  flame,  the  skill 
Of  the  smith  can  fashion  its  form  at  will. 
If  the  softened  iron  thou  canst  not  mould, 
Why  hammer  in  vain  when  the  steel  is  cold?" 

She  trusted  the  words  that  the  charmers  spoke, 
And  hope  in  her  bosom  again  awoke. 
She  would  prison  the  treasure  her  heart  loved  best, 
And  make  him  suffer  that  she  might  rest. 
When  love  is  not  perfect,  with  one  sole  thought  — 
Himself —  is  the  heart  of  the  lover  fraught. 
He  looks  on  his  love  as  a  charming  toy, 
The  spring  and  source  of  his  selfish  joy. 
One  rose  will  he  pluck  from  his  love,  and  leave 
A  hundred  thorns  her  lone  heart  to  grieve. 

As  Zulaikha  sat  by  her  husband's  side, 
She  poured  out  the  rage  of  her  soul  and  cried  : 
"  This  boy  has  brought  me  to  grief  and  shame ; 


512  Jami. 

The  high  and  the  humble  reproach  my  name. 
Men  and  women  the  story  tell, 
How  I  pine  for  the  youth  whom  I  love  too  well  ; 
That  I  am  the  game  he  has  struck  with  his  dart, 
And  laid  on  the  ground  with  a  bleeding  heart. 
Barb  upon  barb  in  my  breast,  they  say, 
Has  drained  the  blood  from  the  stricken  prey ; 
No  hair  on  my  head  from  that  love  is  free, 
And  my  very  self  is  a  stranger  to  me. 
To  send  him  to  prison  and  thus  repel 
The  growing  slander,  me  thinks,  were  well, 
And  in  every  street  of  the  town  to  proclaim 
By  the  voice  of  the  crier  the  traitor's  shame ; 
Thus  shall  be  punished  the  slave  who  allows 
His  eye  to  look  on  his  master's  spouse, 
And  with  lawless  feet,  on  the  carpet  spread 
For  the  lord  who  owns  him,  presumes  to  tread. 
The  tongue  of  reproach  will  be  silent  when 
My  avenging  wrath  is  made  known  to  men." 

The  plan  she  spoke  to  his  willing  ear, 
Delighted  the  heart  of  the  Grand  Vizir. 
"  I  have  pondered  it  long,"  was  the  answer  he  made ; 
"  Long  on  my  soul  has  the  trouble  weighed ; 
But  I  never  have  pierced  a  pearl  so  fine, 
Or  devised  a  plan  to  compare  with  thine. 
The  boy  is  thine  own,  as  thou  wilt,  to  treat ; 
Sweep  thou  the  dust  from  the  path  of  thy  feet." 

She  heard  his  speech  with  a  joyful  smile, 
And  she  turned  to  Yusuf  the  rein  of  her  guile  : 
"  O  wish  of  my  heart  and  desire  of  mine  eyes, 


Yusnf  and  Zulaikha.  5 13 

The  only  treasure  on  earth  I  prize, 
My  lord's  permission  has  left  me  free 
To  deal  as  my  will  may  incline  with  thee. 
Thy  head,  if  I  will,  in  a  prison  must  lie, 
Thy  foot,  if  I  order,  will  tread  the  sky. 
Why  still  rebellious  ?  why  still  so  blind  ? 
Bend  thy  proud  spirit  at  last  and  be  kind. 
Oh,  come,  tread  the  path  of  agreement  and  peace; 
Me  from  torment,  thyself  from  affliction,  release. 
Come,  grant  me  my  wish  ;  I  with  thine  will  comply  \ 
In  the  zenith  of  glory  thy  name  shall  be  high. 
Beware,  beware,  or  the  door  will  unclose 
Of  a  prison  fraught  with  a  hundred  woes ; 
And  to  lie  there  in  sorrow  and  chains  will  be 
Less  sweet  than  to  sit  and  smile  softly  on  me." 
He  opened  his  lips  in  reply  :  but  well 
You  know  the  answer  I  need  not  tell. 
In  Zulaikha's  bosom  resentment  woke, 
And  thus  to  the  chief  of  the  guard  she  spoke : 
"  Off  with  his  robe  and  his  cap  of  gold ; 
In  coarsest  woollen  his  limbs  enfold. 
His  silver  with  fetters  of  iron  deck, 
And  bind  the  slave's  collar  about  his  neck. 
Guilty  of  crime,  make  him  sit  on  an  ass 
And  through  every  street  of  the  city  pass ; 
And  let  a  crier's  loud  voice  proclaim 
That  the  treacherous  servant,  lost  to  shame, 
Who  dares  on  his  master's  carpet  to  tread, 
Shall  thus  with  scorn  to  his  prison  be  led." 
The  multitude  gathered  on  every  side. 


514  Jami. 

And  "  God  forbid,"  in  amaze  they  cried, 

"That  from  one  so  fair  should  come  evil  deed  — 

The  robber  of  hearts  cause  a  heart  to  bleed. 

Of  the  race  of  the  angels  he  surely  is  one, 

And  no  deeds  of  Satan  by  them  are  done. 

No  evil  act  will  the  lovely  do, 

For  the  sage  has  said,  and  his  words  are  true  : 

1  The  fair  in  face  are  not  soiled  with  sin ; 

Less  fair  are  their  looks  than  their  souls  within. 

But  he  who  is  hideous  in  form  and  face, 

Has  a  heart  in  his  breast  that  is  yet  more  base.' 

And  we  see  the  truth  of  the  maxim  still, 

Ne'er  the  hideous  do  good  nor  the  lovely  ill." 

Thus  to  the  dungeon  the  boy  was  driven, 

And  there  to  the  charge  of  the  jailer  given. 

Within  the  prison  the  saint  was  led, 

And  life  seemed  to  return  to  the  corpse  of  the  dead. 

A  cry  of  joy  from  the  captives  rose, 

And  happiness  came  to  that  house  of  woes ; 

While  all  in  rapture  their  fetters  beat 

As  they  saw  the  approach  of  his  blessed  feet. 

None  felt  the  chain  that  confined  each  limb, 

The  ring  on  his  neck  was  no  bond  for  him. 

A  rapturous  joy  was  his  gloomy  fate, 

And  a  mountain  of  woe  was  a  straw  in  weight. 

Wherever  is  one  of  the  Houris'  race 

She  makes  a  heaven  of  the  dreariest  place. 

Where  the  loved  one  comes  with  her  cheek  of  rose, 

There  a  rose-bed  is  though  a  furnace  glows. 

When  the  glad  commotion  was  hushed  and  still, 


i  Yasuf  and  Zulaikha.  515 

To  the  jailer  Zulaikha  declared  her  will : 

"  Spare  him  :  with  kindness  the  captive  treat ; 

Strike  the  ring  from  his  neck  and  the  chain  from  his 

feet. 
Strip  off  the  rough  gown  from  his  silver  skin ; 
Bring  silken  raiment  to  robe  him  in, 
Wash  the  dust  of  toil  from  his  head,  and  set 
On  his  brows  the  bright  round  of  a  coronet. 
A  separate  house  for  his  rest  prepare, 
And  lodge  him  apart  from  the  others  there. 
The  door  and  the  walls  with  sweet  scent  perfume; 
Brighten  each  window  and  arch  of  his  room; 
And  over  the  floor  be  a  carpet  laid 
Of  silver  tissue  and  gold  brocade." 

Within  the  chamber  the  captive  passed  : 
The  carpet  of  prayer  on  the  ground  he  cast, 
And  raised  —  for  such  was  his  wont  each  day — 
His  tranquil  face  to  the  arch  to  pray. 
He  joyed  to  have  fled  from  the  women's  snare, 
And  his  burden  was  light  for  his  heart  to  bear. 
Woe  never  visits  the  world  but  it  brings 
Sweet  scent  of  the  coming  of  happier  things ; 
And  the  weary  captive  who  lies  in  chains 
Feels  the  breath  of  a  blessing  to  lighten  his  pains. 

Repentance. 

In  this  vault  of  turki's  upreared  of  old, 
The  children  of  Adam  are  dull  and  cold ; 
Their  hearts  are  never  in  thankful  mood, 


516  J  a  mi. 

But  their  thoughts  are  still  of  ingratitude ; 
And  the  worth  is  unknown,  till  they  fade  away, 
Of  the  blessings  which  brighten  each  passing  day. 
Though  many  a  lover  may  nerve  his  heart, 
When  he  deems  he  is  weary  of  love,  to  part, 
When  the  flame  of  absence  is  kindled  by  Doom 
His  body  will  waste  and  his  heart  consume. 
The  light  that  the  rose-cheek  of  Yusuf  shed 
Made  the  house  of  bondage  a  bright  rose-bed  ; 
But  Zulaikha,  whose  palace  had  been  more  fair 
Than  a  garden  of  roses  when  he  was  there, 
Felt  a  deep  gloom  on  her  spirit  press, 
When  she  saw  not  the  light  of  his  loveliness. 
Sad  was  her  heart  in  that  dungeon's  hold, 
And  one  sorrow  by  parting  became  twofold. 

Where  is  woe  like  the  lover's  who  looks  on  the  place 
Once  blest  with  the  light  of  his  darling's  face  ? 
What  comfort  is  found  in  the  drear  rose-bed, 
When  the  thorns  are  left  and  the  roses  are  dead? 
Ah,  how  the  heart  of  the  bulbul  is  torn  — 
A  roseless  garden  and  spears  of  thorn  ! 
When  her  look  on  her  desolate  garden  was  bent, 
Like  a  bud  unclosing  her  robe  she  rent. 
Why  should  the  hand  of  the  mourner  refrain 
From  tearing  his  robe  in  a  torment  of  pain  ? 
Let  him  rend  through  his  bosom  a  way  to  his  heart 
That  comfort  may  enter  and  banish  the  smart. 

******* 
Each  thing  he  had  touched,  as  it  met  her  eye, 
Drew  from  her  bosom  a  long  deep  sigh. 


Yiisnf  and  Zulaikha.  517 

Sad  was  her  soul,  and  her  eyes  were  dim, 

As  she  caught  up  the  raiment  once  worn  by  him. 

But  the  touch  was  to  her  as  the  breath  of  the  rose, 

And  soothed  the  fierce  pain  of  her  burning  woes. 

About  her  own  neck  his  collar  she  tied, 

With  a  hundred  kisses  of  love  applied  : 

"  This  is  my  collar  of  glory,  nay, 

The  band  of  my  heart,"  she  would  cry,  "  and  its  stay." 

To  place  her  arm  in  his  mantle's  sleeve 

Would  for  a  moment  her  pain  relieve ; 

As  she  thought  of  her  love  it  was  touched  and  kissed, 

And  with  silver  filled  of  her  dainty  wrist 

She  pressed  to  her  eyes  —  and  the  touch  was  sweet  — 

The  skirt  that  had  lain  on  her  darling's  feet, 

And,  hopeless  to  fasten  her  lips  on  them, 

Deluded  her  soul  with  a  kiss  of  the  hem. 

Pearl  and  ruby  in  showers  she  spread 

Over  the  cap  that  had  decked  his  head. 

For  once  it  had  shaded  the  beautiful  brow 

To  which  the  whole  world  loved  in  worship  to  bow. 

To  the  zone  that  had  girded  his  waist  she  gave 

The  honor  due  from  a  faithful  slave ; 

As  a  token  most  dear  of  her  vanished  fawn 

Round  her  neck  for  a  snare  was  the  girdle  drawn. 

With  dim  eyes  weeping,  her  hands  displayed 

The  glittering  folds  of  his  robe  of  brocade. 

She  bathed  its  skirts  with  her  tears,  and  the  gleam 

Of  the  rubies  she  dropped  was  on  band  and  seam. 

Thus  was  the  grief  of  Zulaikha  renewed 
Through  the  dreary  day  by  each  thing  she  viewed. 


518  Ja  mi. 

As  she  knew  not  the  value  of  present  joy 
The  fierce  flame  of  absence  must  bliss  destroy. 
Zulaikha  sorrowed,  but  sorrowed  in  vain  ; 
Only  patience  was  left  her  to  heaj  her  pain. 
Yes,  patience  would  bring  her  the  balm  of  rest, 
But  how  could  she  banish  her  love  from  her  breast? 

Death  to  the  lover  who  weeps  alone 
Is  the  loss  of  the  love  he  has  loved  and  known. 
Of  torments  and  woe  there  is  none  like  this  — 
To  part  from  one's  love  after  days  of  bliss. 
If  no  sweet  companionship  linked  their  lives, 
His  heart  may  break,  but  it  still  survives. 

Zulaikha  fain  from  herself  would  fly, 
And,  of  good  despairing,  would  gladly  die. 
The  wall  and  the  floor  with  her  head  she  smote, 
The  bloodthirsty  dagger  was  raised  to  her  throat. 
She  sought,  like  a  watchman,  the  roof  at  night 
To  cast  herself  down  from  the  giddy  height. 
She  twisted  a  cord  of  her  hair,  and  strove 
To  stifle  her  breath  with  the  noose  she  wove. 
She  sought  release  for  her  weary  soul  — 
A  poisonous  draught  from  life's  pleasant  bowl. 
She  sickened  of  all,  and  would  fain  destroy 
Her  life  with  each  thing  that  was  once  her  joy. 

The  pitying  nurse  sought  her  lady's  side, 
Kissed  her  hands  and  feet  and  blessed  her  and  cried 
"  May  thy  darling  return  to  dispel  thy  woe ; 
May  thy  cup  with  the  wine  of  his  love  o'erflow  ! 
May  a  happy  meeting  thy  bliss  restore, 
With  no  fear  of  parting  for  evermore  ! 


Ynsitf  and  Zulaikha.  519 

How  long  shall  this  folly  subdue  thee?     Arise, 

Throw  off  thy  madness,  again  be  wise. 

This  sad  heart  bleeds  when  thy  grief  I  see  : 

What  woman  ever  has  acted  like  thee? 

Patience  —  list  to  the  voice  of  age  — 

Patience  alone  will  thy  grief  assuage. 

Impatience  has  brought  thee  this  fever  of  pain  : 

Let  patience  allay  it  with  soothing  rain. 

When  o'er  thee  the  whirlwinds  of  sorrow  pass, 

Flee  not  before  them  like  scattered  grass. 

Keep  thy  foot  in  thy  skirt  with  undaunted  will, 

And  stand  firm  in  thy  place  like  a  rooted  hill. 

Patience  will  lead  thee  to  lasting  bliss, 

And  the  fruit  of  thy  longing  thou  shalt  not  miss. 

Every  triumph  from  patience  springs, 

The  happy  herald  of  better  things. 

Through  patience  the  pearl  from  the  raindrop  grows, 

And  the  diamond  shines  and  the  ruby  glows  ; 

The  full  ear  springs  from  the  scattered  seed, 

And  food  from  the  ear  for  the  traveller's  need. 

So  moons  come  and  vanish  till  babes  are  born, 

And  with  moonlight  beauty  the  world  adorn." 

Zulaikha  listened,  and,  half  consoled, 
The  outward  signs  of  her  grief  controlled. 
Rent  to  the  skirt  was  her  robe,  but  still 
She  confined  her  feet  with  a  stronger  will. 
But  if  for  a  moment  the  lover  hears, 
The  warner  speaks  to  forgetful  ears ; 
Hushed  is  that  tongue  and  no  traces  remain 
Of  the  words  of  wisdom  he  spoke  in  vain. 


520  Jami. 

The  Visit  to  the  Prison. 

When  the  sun,  like  Yusuf,  afar  in  the  west, 

In  his  gloomy  prison  had  sunk  to  rest ; 

And,  like  Zulaikha,  the  mourning  skies 

Wept  for  his  loss  with  their  starry  eyes ; 

While  the  skirt  of  the  heavens  was  dipped  in  a  flood 

Of  rose-red  hue  from  its  tears  of  blood  ; 

Hot  tears  for  Yusuf  Zulaikha  shed, 

And  her  eyes  like  the  evening  horizon  were  red. 

She  went  to  her  chamber  to  sigh  and  to  grieve, 

And  the  wail  of  the  day  was  renewed  at  eve. 

When  the  day  of  a  lover  is  merged  in  night 
Again  wakes  his  pain  with  redoubled  might. 
For  the  loss  of  his  love  his  lone  day  is  dim  : 
But  the  night  is  yet  darker  and  sadder  for  him. 
Dark  is  the  day  when  she  comes  not  back, 
But  the  night  is  darker,  deep  black  upon  black 
For  night  to  the  lover  comes  heavy  with  gloom, 
And  fierce  is  the  offspring  that  comes  from  her  womb ; 
When  the  terrible  child  is  brought  forth  it  lives 
On  blood  for  the  milk  which  a  mother  gives. 
Ah,  think  what  woe  must  the  mother  bring 
From  whom  a  child  thirsting  for  blood  can  spring  ! 
In  the  wild  impatience  that  drove  her  mad, 
The  night  to  Zulaikha  was  gloomy  and  sad ; 
The  darling  who  ravished  her  heart  was  away, 
And  her  night  was  moonless  and  sunless  her  day. 
There  was  splendor  of  torches,  yet  dark  was  each  place 
Where  shone  not  the  light  of  her  loved  one's  face. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  521 

Through  the  stress  of  her  anguish  she  closed  no  eye ; 
And  she  said  with  hot  tears  and  a  bitter  cry  : 
"  How  fares  he  this  night?     Ah,  how  can  I  tell? 
Who  is  the  bail  that  they  serve  him  well  ? 
Who  has  smoothed  the  folds  at  his  feet,  and  set 
In  order  the  bolster  and  coverlet? 
Whose  hand  has  lighted  a  lamp  by  his  bed, 
And  softened  the  pillow  to  rest  his  head? 
Who  has  loosened  the  zone  from  his  waist,  and  told, 
To  lull  him,  tales  of  the  times  of  old  ? 
Has  the  prison  injured  his  tender  frame? 
Like  a  bird  encaged,  is  the  captive  tame? 
Have  his  roses  paled  in  the  dungeon  air? 
Are  his  locks  still  bright  as  the  spikenard's  hair? 
Is  the  bloom  of  the  rose-garden  faded  and  dead? 
Is  the  splendor  that  shone  from  the  spikenard  fled? 
In  his  heart  like  a  rosebud  compressed  with  woes, 
Or  expanded  in  joy  like  the  perfect  rose?" 
Thus  till  a  watch  of  the  night  was  spent 
She  poured  out  her  anguish  in  wail  and  lament. 
Then  strength  departed,  endurance  died ; 
The  brook  of  her  patience  was  empty  and  dried. 
Then  the  flame  of  her  longing  flashed  forth  :  with  eyes 
Streaming  she  called  to  her  nurse  :  "  Arise, 
I  can  wait  no  longer :  arise,  let  us  go 
Unseen  of  all  to  the  house  of  woe. 
There  we  will  hide  in  some  corner ;  thus 
The  Moon  of  our  prison  will  shine  for  us. 
With  the  rosy  cheek  of  one's  darling,  there 
No  prison  may  be,  but  the  spring  is  fair. 


522  Jami. 

Let  others  be  glad  when  gay  gardens  they  see : 
This  bud  of  the  prison  is  all  to  me." 

In  graceful  motion  away  she  sped, 
And  the  nurse  followed  close  where  the  lady  led. 
She  came  like  a  moon  to  the  prison  wall, 
And  the  warder  rose  at  her  secret  call. 
He  opened  the  gate  as  he  moved  the  bar 
And  showed  her  the  moon  of  her  love  afar. 
On  the  carpet  of  worship  his  head  he  bent, 
As  the  sun  declines  ere  the  day  is  spent. 
Then  he  reared  like  a  flambeau  his  stately  height, 
And  threw  o'er  the  captives  long  rays  of  light. 
Then  he  curved  his  back  to  a  moon  whose  glow 
Fell  on  the  carpet  outspread  below. 
Then,  like  a  rose -twig  by  the  night-wind  swayed, 
He  bowed  and  to  God  for  forgiveness  prayed ; 
Then  in  humble  hope  with  his  head  depressed 
Like  a  modest  violet  sat  at  rest. 

Silent  and  hidden  she  moved  no  limb, 
Far  from  herself  but  so  near  to  him. 
But  she  wept  in  her  heart,  and  the  tears  she  shed 
Turned  the  jasmine  hue  of  her  cheek  to  red. 
With  pearl  she  mangled  the  ruby,  and  tore 
The  rich  ripe  dates  that  the  palm  tree  bcre. 
Then  her  grief  burst  forth,  and  while  hot  tears  ran 
From  their  fountain  in  torrents,  she  thus  began  : 
"  Eye  and  lamp  of  the  lovely  ones,  thou 
Whom  the  fairest  would  follow  with  prayer  and  vow, 
In  my  breast  thou  hast  kindled  a  flame  of  fire ; 
From  my  head  to  my  foot  I  am  all  desire. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  523 

But  no  drop  of  pity  hast  thou  bestowed 
To  quench  the  flame  when  its  fury  glowed. 
Thou  hast  gored  my  breast  and  no  pity  felt 
For  the  cruel  wound  which  thy  hand  has  dealt. 
Hast  thou  no  ruth,  O  most  heartless,  none 
For  me  rejected,  oppressed,  undone? 
I  bear  from  thee  daily  fresh  grief  and  scorn : 
Ah,  woe  is  me  that  I  ever  was  born  ! 
Or  if  she  had  borne  me,  a  babe  unblest, 
Would  I  ne'er  had  lain  on  my  mother's  breast, 
Ne'er  on  kindly  milk  from  her  bosom  fed, 
But  deadly  poison  had  sucked  instead." 

Thus  sad  Zulaikha  wept  and  complained ; 
But  cold  and  unyielding  his  heart  remained. 
Unmoved  was  his  soul,  or  no  sign  betrayed 
That  his  ruth  was  stirred  as  she  wept  and  prayed. 

The  night  passed  away  :  the  pure  skies  o'erhead 
Wept  tears  like  those  which  the  holy  shed. 
Loud  sounded  the  drum  from  the  palace,  high 
Rose  through  the  air  the  Muezzin's  cry. 
The  watch-dog's  baying  was  hushed,  and  round 
His  throat  for  a  collar  his  tail  was  wound. 
Up  started  the  cock  from  his  sleep ;  his  throat 
Sent  forth  to  the  morning  its  clarion  note. 
Then  Zulaikha  rose  ;  from  the  jail  she  withdrew, 
But  its  threshold  she  kissed  ere  she  bade  it  adieu. 

Long  as  her  moon  in  that  prison  lay, 
To  its  portal  nightly  she  found  her  way. 
Thus  ever  she  went  and  she  came ;  and  this 
Was  her  heart's  sole  comfort,  her  only  bliss. 


524  Jami. 

None  loves  a  garden  where  bright  flowers  blow 
As  she  loved  to  visit  that  house  of  woe. 
Yes,  when  your  love  is  in  prison,  where 
Will  your  soul  find  comfort  save  only  there  ? 

The  Palace-roof. 

Night  o'er  the  lover  a  soft  veil  throws 

To  lighten  the  pang  of  his  bitterest  woes, 

And  brings  him  many  a  counsel  that  lay 

Lost  in  the  toil  of  the  bustling  day. 

As  her  nightly  sorrow  grew  less  and  less, 

And  her  anguish  lost  some  of  its  bitterness, 

The  day  returning  her  pangs  renewed, 

And  the  hundred  woes  of  her  solitude. 

Her  road  to  the  prison  by  day  was  barred, 

And  away  from  that  prison  her  life  was  hard. 

Some  costly  trifle  each  morn  she  laid 

In  the  willing  hand  of  her  trustiest  maid, 

And  instead  of  herself  she  commissioned  her 

To  look  on  the  face  of  the  prisoner. 

When  from  her  errand  the  maid  returned, 

A  thousand  caresses  her  task  had  earned. 

On  the  damsel's  foot  she  would  rest  her  cheek ; 

She  would  kiss  her  eyes  and  thus  softly  speak  : 

"  Thy  foot  has  been  where  my  darling  lies, 

And  his  cheek  has  been  seen  by  these  happy  eyes. 

No  kiss  of  mine  on  his  eyes  may  be  pressed  ; 

My  cheek  on  his  foot  is  forbidden  to  rest. 

Yet  this  eye  of  thine  for  a  moment  —  for  this 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  525 

Has  looked  on  the  eye  of  my  love  —  I  kiss  ; 

And  I  lay  my  cheek  on  thy  feet  instead, 

Which  have  trodden  the  ground  which  my  darling's 

tread." 
Then  would  she  question  the  maiden  :  "  How 
Was  the  glance  of  his  eye?     And  his  cheek?     And 

brow  ? 
In  his  daily  life  is  there  knot  or  thorn? 
Is  his  face  untroubled,  or  pale  and  worn? 
Has  the  lonely  air  of  the  prison  made 
His  body  suffer,  his  roses  fade? 
Did  he  deign  to  taste  of  the  dainties  I  sent? 
Does  he  think  of  her  whose  heart  he  has  rent?  " 
She  would  ask  and  listen;  then  swift  would  she  rise 
And  hasten  away  with  her  streaming  eyes. 

High  on  her  house  stood  a  turret  between, 
Whose  pillars  the  roof  of  the  prison  was  seen ; 
There,  when  the  hours  of  the  night  had  flown, 
She  would  close  the  door  fast  and  would  sit  alone. 
On  each  cheek  was  a  ruby,  a  pearl  in  each  eye, 
As  she  gazed  on  the  prison  and  said  with  a  sigh  : 
"  What  am  I  to  behold  his  dear  face  !     To  see 
The  roof  where  he  dwells  is  enough  for  me. 
Unworthy  to  look  on  his  cheek,  mine  eye 
With  those  walls  and  that  door  will  I  satisfy. 
A  Paradise  blooms  in  the  dreariest  walls 
Wherever  the  light  of  my  dear  moon  falls. 
That  roof  is  blest  with  a  matchless  prize, 
For  the  sun  of  the  world  in  its  shelter  lies. 
My  back  with  a  burden  of  grief  is  bent 


526  Jami. 

When  I  think  of  that  wall  where  his  back  has  leant. 

Joy  through  that  portal  erect  can  march, 

But  my  cypress  must  stoop  ere  he  passed  the  arch. 

Ah,  happy  threshold  !     Ah,  blest  above 

All  others  to  kiss  the  dear  feet  of  my  love  ! 

O  joy,  when  that  sun  makes  me  crumble  away 

Into  atoms  scarce  seen  as  they  float  in  the  ray, 

When  I  leap  from  my  window  that  sun  to  meet 

And  throw  myself  down  at  his  lovely  feet. 

Ah,  even  the  earth  is  more  blest  than  I, 

For  his  graceful  feet  on  her  bosom  lie, 

And  the  dust  of  the  path  which  his  footsteps  stir, 

Clings  to  his  skirt  and  falls  sweetly  on  her." 

Through  the  weary  day  till  the  night  brought  ease 
Such  was  her  bondage,  her  words  were  like  these. 
While  the  light  of  her  heart  in  that  prison  lay, 
This  is  the  story  of  night  and  day. 
Still  to  the  prison  at  night  she  went, 
And  by  day  her  eyes  on  its  roof  were  bent. 
Day  after  day,  week  after  week, 
She  looked  on  that  wall  and  she  gazed  on  his  cheek. 
She  had  made  him  a  home  in  her  heart :  no  care 
For  her  life,  for  the  world,  could  find  entrance  there. 
Lost  to  herself  she  thought  of  him  still, 
From  her  heart's  tablet  washing  all  good  and  ill. 
When  the  call  of  her  maidens  rang  loud  and  clear 
She  scarce  came  to    herself,  though   she  seemed   to 

hear. 
Then  to  those  maidens  she  oft  would  say : 
"  My  senses  are  gone,  ah,  forever,  astray. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikba.  527 

Attention  from  me  it  is  hopeless  to  seek; 
Touch  me  and  shake  me  before  you  speak. 
I  may  come  to  myself,  by  your  touches  stirred ; 
Mine  ear  may  be  opened,  your  message  heard. 
My  heart  is  with  him  in  the  prison  :  hence 
Springs  all  the  trouble  that  steals  my  sense. 
She  in  whose  bosom  that  fair  moon  lives, 
No  care  and  no  thought  to  another  gives." 

Fierce  fever  followed  her  heart's  wild  pain, 
And  the  point  of  the  lancet  must  open  a  vein. 
They  who  stood  round  saw  each  blood-drop  spell 
A  letter  of  YusuPs  name  as  it  fell. 
This  word  on  the  ground,  so  that  all  might  note, 
The  lancet-reed  of  the  surgeon  wrote. 
So  full  of  her  love  were  the  vein  and  the  skin 
That  nothing  save  Yusuf  might  dwell  therein. 
Blest  is  the  lover  whose  soul  has  fraught 
The  zephyr  of  love  with  no  selfish  thought ; 
Whose  heart  is  so  full  of  its  darling,  there 
No  room  may  be  for  a  single  hair ; 
Where  absolute  love  through  each  vein  is  spread, 
In  each  drop  of  his  blood,  in  each  hair  of  his  head  ; 
Who  forgets  his  own  form  and  his  features,  knows 
No  love  of  friends  and  no  hatred  of  foes  ; 
Who  bids  farewell  to  the  world,  looks  down 
With  scorn  on  ambition  and  throne  and  crown. 
If  he  utters  a  word  'tis  to  her  that  he  speaks, 
And  would  win  for  her  only  each  thing  that  he  seeks. 
He  recks  not  of  self,  and,  in  all  he  desires, 
His  love  for  his  darling  each  thought  inspires. 


528  Jami. 

His  former  self  he  has  thrown  aside, 

And  each  thought  is  ennobled  and  purified. 

Rise,  Jami,  thou  !     A  new  life  begin ; 
Seek  the  mansion  eternal  and  enter  in. 
Thou  knowest  the  way  which  thy  feet  should  tread 
Ne'er  the  path  of  the  sluggard  to  bliss  hath  led. 
Quit  self  and  this  being  forever  :  set 
Thy  feet  no  more  in  the  worldling's  net. 
Once  thou  wast  not,  and  no  loss  was  thine  : 
Now  be  rich  forever,  this  life  resign. 
Seek  not  thy  bliss  in  thyself;  refrain 
From  the  fruitless  hope  that  will  bring  no  gain. 

Fellow-prisoners. 

He  who  is  born  to  high  fate  on  earth 
Disperses  the  dark  as  he  springs  to  birth. 
For  him  in  each  thicket  a  lily  blows, 
And  the  musk  of  Tartary  breathes  from  the  rose. 
He  visits  the  field  like  a  cloud  of  soft  rain, 
And  Paradise  blooms  on  the  thirsty  plain. 
Like  a  breeze  of  spring  through  a  garden  he  strays, 
And  the  rose  awakened  her  lamp  displays. 
If  his  face  in  a  dungeon  he  deign  to  show, 
Each  captive  there  will  forget  his  woe. 
So  while  the  prison  where  Yusuf  lay 
Smiled  with  his  presence  and  all  was  gay, 
Each  prisoner,  happy  in  heart,  forgot 
The  bond  and  the  chain  and  his  dreary  lot. 
But  if  ever  a  captive  sickened  there, 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikba.  529 

The  weary  victim  of  toil  and  care, 

Yusuf  watched  tenderly  o'er  him  till  he 

Was  made  whole  from  the  pain  of  his  malady. 

Was  the  soul  of  any  oppressed  with  grief 

Yusuf  was  ready  to  lend  relief, 

With  a  smile  so  sweet  and  a  voice  so  kind 

That  the  mourner  was  cheered  and  his  heart  resigned. 

If  a  penniless  wretch  of  his  lot  complained, 

As  the  new  moon  filled  or  the  full  moon  waned,1 

Yusuf  took  from  the  wealthy  a  golden  key, 

Relieved  the  debtor  and  made  him  free. 

If  a  rich  man  dreamed  a  sad  dream  and  was  caught 

In  the  threatening  whirlpool  of  wildered  thought, 

The  dream  was  explained  by  those  lips,  and  he 

Was  saved  from  the  depth  of  the  surging  sea. 

Two  lords,  once  high  in  the  ruler's  grace, 
Had  fallen  low  from  their  lofty  place, 
And,  doomed  in  that  prison  long  days  to  spend, 
Had  won  the  love  of  that  faithful  friend. 
Each  dreamed  a  dream  one  night,  and  the  breast 
Of  each  was  moved  with  a  wild  unrest ; 
For  one  had  the  promise  of  freedom,  one 
Was  warned  that  the  days  of  his  life  were  done. 
So  weighed  those  dreams,  both  of  hope  and  dread, 
On  the  heart  of  each,  uninterpreted. 
They  came  to  Yusuf  and  prayed  him  unfold 
The  secret  drift  of  the  dreams  they  told. 
"Thou  on  the  gallows,"  he  said,  "must  swing; 
And  thou  wilt  return  to  the  court  of  the  king." 

1  As  the  days  came  near  on  which  he  was  bound  to  pay  debts. 


530  Jami. 

True  were  his  words.     To  the  youth  restored 
To  his  place  of  honor  beside  his  lord, 
Ere  he  turned  to  the  court  from  his  bonds  set  free, 
Thus  spoke  Yusuf:  "Remember  me. 
If  fortune  favor  thee,  time  may  bring 
A  happy  hour  to  address  the  king. 
Thou  wilt  gain  thy  reward  if  thou  speak  to  him  then 
As  he  sits  in  the  hall  with  his  noblemen. 
1  A  stranger,'  say,  '  in  the  prison  lies 
Barred  from  the  sight  of  thy  pitying  eyes. 
It  beseems  not  a  heart  that  is  righteous  like  thine 
To  suffer  the  guiltless  in  bonds  to  pine.'  " 

But  when  that  servant  his  rank  regained, 
And  the  cup  of  the  grace  of  his  master  drained, 
For  many  a  year  his  glad  heart  forgot 
The  prayer  of  Yusuf  or  heeded  not. 
The  tree  of  his  promise  brought  forth  despair, 
And  Yusuf  yet  lingered  a  captive  there. 

From  him  who  is  chosen,  whom  God  above 
Deems  worthy  to  rest  in  the  shade  of  His  love, 
All  earthly  means  in  this  world  are  withdrawn : 
No  mortal  may  hold  His  elected  in  pawn. 
Gods  draws  him  away  to  Himself  alone, 
And  to  none  but  Him  may  his  love  be  shown. 
To  the  will  of  another  he  may  not  bend, 
But  on  God  alone  may  his  hope  depend. 
No  prayer  to  others  must  he  prefer, 
But  be  God's  own  servant  and  prisoner. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaihha.  531 

The  King's  Vision. 

Many  a  lock  in  this  world  we  see 
To  open  whose  wards  we  can  find  no  key, 
When  the  wit  of  the  wise  is  of  no  avail, 
And  care  and  quick  sight  and  endeavor  fail. 
On  a  sudden,  touched  by  no  master-hand, 
With  no  device  that  an  artist  planned, 
Through  a  cause  unknown  the  lock  open  flies 
And  displays  to  the  seeker  the  long-sought  prize. 

The  heart  of  Yusuf  all  hope  resigned 
That  his  own  device  would  his  bonds  unbind. 
His  hope  was  only  in  Him  from  whom 
Comes  help  to  us  all  in  the  days  of  gloom, 
And,  free  from  self-thought  in  his  low  estate, 
He  was  guided  by  God  the  Compassionate. 

Clear  to  the  ruler  of  Egypt's  sight 
Appeared  seven  kine,  as  he  dreamed  one  night ; 
Each  more  fair  than  the  other,  all 
Were  healthy  and  handsome  and  fat  from  the  stall. 
After  them  others  advancing  were  seen, 
Equal  in  number,  but  weak  and  lean. 
By  these  the  former  were  overpowered 
And,  like  the  grass  of  the  field,  devoured. 
Seven  ears  of  corn  then  were  seen  to  rise, 
That  might  gladden  the  heart  and  delight  the  eyes. 
Then  seven  thin  ears,  grown  each  from  a  stem, 
Followed  and  withered  and  ruined  them. 

In  the  early  morn  when  the  king  awoke, 
To  each  wakeful  heart  of  his  dream  he  spoke. 


532  Jami. 

"  We  cannot  interpret  it,"  all  replied ; 

"Thought  and  conjecture  are  here  defied. 

The  dream  is  a  riddle  no  wit  may  explain, 

And  wisest  are  they  who  from  guess  refrain." 

Then  he  who  had  knowledge  of  Yusuf  flung 

Aside  the  veil  that  before  him  hung, 

And  said  :  —  "A  youth  in  the  prison  lies, 

In  solving  riddles  supremely  wise. 

His  wit  can  interpret  each  dream,  and  he 

Will  bring  up  the  pearl  when  he  dives  in  the  sea. 

Permit  me  to  tell  him  this  secret  thing, 

And  the  drift  of  thy  dream  from  his  lips  will  I  bring." 

"What  need,"  said  the  king,  "of  permission  to  speak? 

What  better  than  sight  may  the  blind  man  seek? 

And  from  this  moment  the  eye  of  my  mind, 

Till  I  master  this  secret,  is  dark  and  blind." 

He  ran  to  the  prison  with  utmost  speed, 

And  gave  to  Yusuf  the  dream  to  read. 

"Years,"  he  explained,  "are  those  ears  and  kine, 

Whose  looks  of  those  years  are  the  mark  and  sign. 

The  fair  fat  kine  and  the  full  ears  well 

The  nature  and  hope  of  those  years  may  tell. 

The  meagre  ears,  the  kine  thin  and  weak, 

Of  years  of  dearth  and  misfortune  speak. 

In  the  former  seven  the  kindly  rain 

Will  fill  the  fields  full  with  rich  grass  and  grain, 

And  all  the  land  will  be  glad  and  gay. 

But  seven  will  come,when  those  pass  away, 

To  ruin  the  gifts  of  the  years  before  ; 

And  the  hearts  of  men  will  be  glad  no  more. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  533 

No  gracious  cloud  the  sweet  rain  will  bring, 

No  blade  of  grass  from  the  ground  will  spring. 

No  joy  will  the  wealth  of  the  rich  supply, 

And  the  poor  and  needy  will  hunger  and  die. 

On  the  table  of  Time  is  no  food,  and  Bread  ! 

Is  the  cry  of  thousands  who  die  unfed." 

The  noble  listened,  and  straight  returned 

To  the  court  of  the  king  with  the  lore  he  had  learned. 

To  his  master  the  words  of  Yusuf  he  told, 

And  made  his  glad  heart  like  a  bud  unfold. 

"  Bring  Yusuf  to  me,"  said  the  monarch,  "  that  I 

On  the  truth  of  these  words  may  more  surely  rely. 

Tis  sweetest  to  hear  a  dear  friend  repeat 

With  his  own  lips  the  words  which,  reported,  are  sweet ; 

And  who  is  content  from  another  to  hear 

The  words  he  may  draw  from  the  lips  that  are  dear?" 

Again  to  the  prison  his  steps  he  bent, 
And  gave  Yusuf  the  message  the  king  had  sent : 
"  Fair  cypress,  come  from  thy  still  retreat, 
In  the  monarch's  garden  to  set  thy  feet. 
O  come,  and  the  court  of  his  house  will  shine 
More  fair  with  the  rose  of  that  cheek  of  thine." 
"  Shall  I  visit,"  cried  Yusuf,  "  the  court  of  a  king 
Who  has  cast  me  aside  like  a  guilty  thing  — 
Who  has  left  me  in  prison  long  years,  nor  bent 
One  pitying  glance  on  the  innocent? 
Let  him  first  command,  if  he  will  that  I  go 
Forth  to  his  court  from  this  house  of  woe, 
That  they  whom,  at  sight  of  me,  wonder  led 
To  wound  with  the  knife  their  own  hands  till  thev  bled, 


534  Jami. 

Like  the  Pleiades  gathered  before  his  face, 

Uplift  the  veil  and  make  clear  my  case ; 

And  let  them  declare  for  what  fault  or  crime 

I  have  lain  in  the  prison  this  dreary  time. 

Then  will  the  secret  come  forth  to  light, 

And  my  skirt  will  be  proved  to  be  pure  and  white. 

The  path  of  sin  have  I  never  pursued, 

But  traitorous  thought  in  my  heart  eschewed. 

To  my  lord  I  was  faithful  in  deed  and  in  thought, 

No  perfidy  planned,  no  dishonesty  wrought. 

Ere  thus  with  my  master  I  stooped  to  deal, 

Like  a  midnight  thief  I  would  plunder  and  steal." 

The  message  was  given  ;  the  monarch  heard  ; 
To  the  women  of  Memphis  he  sent  his  word, 
And,  called  from  their  homes  by  the  summons,  they 

came 
To  the  light  of  his  presence  like  moths  to  the  flame. 
When  their  company  entered  the  court  of  their  lord, 
He  loosened  his  tongue  as  a  flaming  sword  : 
"  How  did  that  pure  light  offend,  that  you 
The  sword  of  dishonor  against  him  drew  ? 
How  could  you  send  to  a  prison  the  boy 
Whose  face  was  your  garden  and  spring  of  joy? 
Bind  chains  on  the  neck  of  an  idol  for  whom 
The  weight  of  a  rose  were  too  heavy  a  doom  ? 
No  chains  but  the  links  of  the  dew  should  be  borne 
By  the  rose  that  is  bowed  by  the  breath  of  the  morn." 
"  O  King,"  they  answered,  "  whose  splendor  has  lent 
To  the  crown  and  the  throne  a  new  ornament, 
Purity  only  in  Yusuf  we  saw, 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikba.  535 

Honor  and  love  of  each  holiest  law. 

No  pearl  ever  lay  'neath  the  depth  of  the  sea 

More  pure  in  the  shell  that  enfolds  it  than  he." 

There  too  Zulaikha  sat  with  the  rest, 
With  no  lie  on  her  lip  and  no  guile  in  her  breast. 
The  schooling  of  love  and  his  sweet  control 
Had  chastened  her  spirit  and  softened  her  soul. 
The  splendor  of  truth  from  her  bosom  broke, 
And  like  the  true  dawning  of  day  she  spoke. 
The  veil  of  her  folly  was  flung  aside, 
And,  "The  light  of  the  truth  is  revealed,"  she  cried. 
"  To  the  charge  of  Yusuf  no  sin  is  laid  ; 
I  in  my  love  for  him  erred  and  strayed. 
With  the  spells  of  my  love  I  would  draw  him  near, 
And  I  drove  him  afar  when  he  would  not  hear. 
To  the  house  of  woe  for  my  woes  was  he  sent, 
And  my  sufferings  caused  his  imprisonment. 
When  the  love-grief  I  felt  was  too  heavy  to  bear, 
Of  the  load  of  my  sorrows  I  gave  him  a  share. 
I  was  the  tyrant,  and,  oh  !  that  he 
Were  repaid  for  the  woes   he   has  suffered   through 

me  ! 
Each  grace,  each  honor  and  bounty  —  all 
That  the  king  may  give  —  were  a  gift  too  small." 

He  heard  Zulaikha  the  secret  disclose ; 
He  smiled  like  a  rosebud,  and  bloomed  like  a  rose. 
He  gave  command  to  his  servants  to  speed, 
And  back  from  the  prison  bring  Yusuf  freed. 
"  In  the  loveliest  garden  the  rose  should  bloom, 
And  not  lie  immured  in  a  dungeon's  gloom. 


536  Jami. 

In  the  realm  of  love  he  is  lord  supreme, 

And  no  seat  but  a  throne  may  that  king  beseem." 

Release. 

In  this  ancient  lodge  'tis  a  well-known  tale 
That  ne'er  without  bitter  may  sweet  prevail. 
When  the  weary  days  of  the  moons  have  passed, 
The  mother  looks  on  her  babe  at  last. 
In  the  rock  pines  the  ruby  till,  one  by  one, 
Its  veins  are  filled  full  of  the  light  of  the  sun. 

The  night  of  Yusuf  was  long  and  drear, 
But  it  fled  at  last  and  the  dawn  was  clear. 
Long  on  his  heart  lay  a  mountain  of  woes, 
But  bright  o'er  its  summit  the  sun  arose. 
To  welcome  him  back  with  due  honor,  all 
The  courtiers  who  stood  in  the  monarch's  hall, 
Were  straightway  commanded  to  line  the  way 
From  the  court  to  the  prison  in  full  array. 
There  youths  apparelled  in  rich  brocade 
And  glittering  girdles  with  gold  inlaid ; 
There  skilful  riders  were  fair  to  see, 
On  the  noblest  chargers  of  Araby  ; 
There,  bright  as  the  sun,  was  a  minstrel  throng 
Skilled  in  all  Hebrew  and  Syrian  song ; 
And  the  lords  of  Egypt  on  every  side 
Scattered  their  silver  coin  far  and  wide, 
While  the  poor  and  needy  flocked  round  to  gain 
A  share  of  the  wealth  of  the  shining  rain. 
Forth  from  the  prison  came  Yusuf,  gay 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikba.  537 

In  the  pomp  and  sheen  of  a  king's  array. 
The  stately  steed  by  his  hand  controlled 
Was  a  mountain  covered  with  pearl  and  gold. 
Bags  full  of  jewels  and  coin,  and  trays 
Of  musk  and  ambergris  strewed  the  ways, 
Thrown  from  each  side  at  the  feet  of  his  steed, 
And  from  want  the  poor  were  forever  freed. 
He  passed  through  the  street  of  the  royal  town ; 
At  the  gate  of  the  palace  he  lighted  down, 
And  silk  and  satin  and  gold  brocade 
Beneath  his  feet — yea,  and  heads  —  were  laid, 
xAnd  o'er  azure  carpets  his  steps  he  bent 
Like  a  moon  sailing  on  through  the  firmament. 

Swift  as  the  wind  the  glad  monarch  pressed, 
Warned  of  his  coming,  to  meet  the  guest. 
He  clasped  him  close  to  his  bosom  :  so 
A  box  tree  her  arms  round  a  cypress  might  throw. 
He  made  him  sit  on  his  royal  seat : 
He  questioned  him  long,  and  his  words  were  sweet. 
First  the  drift  of  his  dream  would  the  monarch  hear, 
And  Yusuf  s  words  made  the  meaning  clear. 
Then  of  many  an  action  and  place  and  thing 
He  plied  him  with  eagerest  questioning. 
Each  answer  of  Yusuf  was  clear  and  true, 
And  the  king's  delight  with  his  wonder  grew. 
"  Help  me  with  counsel,"  at  last  he  said ; 
"  This  dream  which  thy  lips  have  interpreted  — 
How  shall  I  meet  the  woe  threatened  ?     How  drain 
The  bitter  cup  of  my  country's  pain  ?" 

"  In  the  years  of  abundance,"  he  thus  replied, 


538  Jami. 

"  When  the  clouds  the  blessing  of  rain  provide, 

Send  out  thine  orders  that  all  shall  till 

The  fields  of  the  land  with  one  heart  and  will ; 

With  sharp  nails  harrow  each  stony  place, 

And  scatter  the  seed  with  the  blood  of  the  face. 

Let  the  grain,  which  the  ears  when  they  ripen,  afford 

For  the  food  of  the  future  be  gathered  and  stored. 

In  the  days  of  famine  each  laden  ear 

Rends  the  heart  of  thy  foe  with  its  pointed  spear. 

Let  the  gathered  corn  in  the  granaries  lie  ; 

Then,  when  the  drought  and  the  dearth  are  nigh, 

From  the  ample  stores  thou  hast  gathered  give 

Enough  to  each  man  that  his  soul  may  live. 

But  o'er  every  business  should  one  preside 

Whose  skill  and  knowledge  are  proved  and  tried ; 

Whose  keen-eyed  prudence  each  end  foresees, 

And  his  hand  performs  what  his  head  decrees. 

Search  through  the  world  for  such  heart  and  brain, 

A  man  like  me  will  be  sought  in  vain. 

This  weighty  task  to  my  charge  commit, 

For  none  in  the  land  wilt  thou  find  so  fit." 

The  king  was  glad  at  his  sage  reply ; 
Mid  the  lords  of  Egypt  he  raised  him  high. 
He  bade  the  soldiers  his  word  obey 
And  gave  him  the  land  for  his  own  to  sway. 
He  was  Grand  Vizir  by  the  monarch's  grace, 
And  sat  on  the  throne  in  the  ruler's  place. 
Enthroned  he  sat  in  his  seat  of  pride, 
And  the  people  bowed  prostrate  on  every  side. 
The  shouts  of  the  heralds,  as  forth  he  went 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  539 

To  the  plain,  rose  up  to  the  firmament. 
To  every  place,  as  his  fancy  led, 
By  thousands  his  coming  was  heralded ; 
And  near  their  lord,  when  he  chose  to  ride, 
Was  a  countless  army  to  guard  and  guide. 
When  thus  to  Yusuf  the  Lord  Supreme 
Gave  the  highest  rank  in  the  King's  esteem, 
The  Grand  Vizir  saw  his  sun  go  down, 
And  low  sank  the  flag  of  his  old  renown. 
Crushed  was  his  heart  by  his  loss  of  state, 
And  he  fell  a  prey  to  the  dart  of  Fate. 


The  Blind  Widow. 

Untouched  by  delight  and  by  meaner  pain 
Is  the  heart  that  loves  fondly  but  loves  in  vain. 
Only  this  care  to  its  skirts  may  cling ; 
No  joy  may  gladden,  no  sorrow  sting. 
If  this  world  of  ours  were  a  sea  of  woes, 
And  the  billows  of  wrath  high  as  mountains  rose, 
They  might  roar  about  him  and  rage,  but  the  hem 
Of  his  garment  would  never  be  wetted  by  them. 
If  Fate  spread  a  banquet  of  joy  —  a  feast 
Whose  delight  never  ended  and  still  increased  — 
He  would  turn  away,  for  the  dainties  there 
Would  not  lighten  his  load  by  a  single  hair. 
A  hapless  bird  was  Zulaikha.     She  pined 
In  the  narrow  cage  of  the  world  confined. 
Befriended  by  Fortune,  in  pride  and  power, 


540  Ja  mi. 

When  a  rose-bed  bloomed  in  her  secret  bower ; 

With  her  lord  beside  her  to  shade  and  screen 

The  tender  plant  when  her  bud  was  green  — 

With  all  dainty  things,  if  she  cared  but  to  speak ; 

When  no  lamp  was  so  bright  as  her  youthful  cheek : 

Yusuf  e'en  then  her  whole  heart  possessed  — 

The  sweet  name  on  her  lips,  the  dear  hope  in   her 

breast. 
Now,  when  from  her  side  her  protector  was  reft, 
When  naught  of  her  rank  and  her  treasures  was  left, 
The  sole  friend  of  her  heart,  who  ne'er  changed  his 

place, 
Was  the  sweet  remembrance  of  Yusuf's  face. 
She  thought  of  him  ever ;  her  sad  house  seemed 
Her  dear  fatherland  when  of  him  she  dreamed. 
No  food  could  she  eat,  and  she  closed  not  her  eyes ; 
She  wept  tears  of  blood  and  she  said  with  sighs  :  — 
"  Beloved  Yusuf,  where,  where  art  thou  ? 
Why  false  and  faithless  to  pledge  and  vow? 
Oh,  that  again  those  sweet  hours  I  might  see, 
When  one  happy  home  held  my  love  and  me  ! 
When  no  fear  of  parting  could  mar  delight, 
And  I  gazed  on  his  beauty  from  morn  till  night. 
When  stern  Fate  robbed  me  of  this  sweet  joy, 
I  sent  to  prison  that  innocent  boy. 
Unseen  by  night  to  his  presence  I  stole, 
And  the  sight  of  his  cheek  was  as  balm  to  my  soul : 
And  a  glance  at  the  walls  where  my  darling  lay 
Rubbed  the  rust  of  grief  from  my  heart  by  day. 
No  joy  is  now  left  me,  no  solace  like  these ; 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  541 

My  heart  and  my  frame  perish  of  pain  and  disease. 
All  I  have  left  is  the  image  which  still, 
Where'er  I  may  be,  this  sad  bosom  must  fill. 
The  soul  of  this  frame  is  that  image,  and  I, 
Bereft  of  its  presence,  should  languish  and  die." 

Then  her  breast  and  her  heart  she  would  fiercely 
tear, 
And  engrave  the  form  of  her  darling  there. 
She  would  strike  her  soft  knee  with  her  hand  till  the 

blue 
Of  the  lotus  supplanted  the  jasmine's  hue. 
"  I  am  worthy  the  love  of  my  love,"  she  would  cry, 
"  For  my  love  is  the  sun  and  the  lotus  am  I. 
As  my  love  is  the  lord  of  the  east  and  the  west, 
The  place  of  the  lotus  for  me  is  the  best." 

She  would  strike  her  heart's  fir-cone l  again  and  again 
With  closed  fingers  knotted  like  sugar-cane. 
And  her  hand  —  no  picture  could  match  its  grace  — 
Left  on  her  bosom  a  blood-red  trace. 
For  a  reed  each  bleeding  finger  she  took, 
And,  white  as  pure  camphor,  her  hand  was  a  book ; 
But  the  only  word  she  could  write  therein 
Was  the  syllable  grief  on  the  silver  skin  ; 
And  ah,  her  beloved  would  read  or  note 
No  single  line  of  the  word  she  wrote. 

Long  years  of  sorrow,  each  like  the  last, 
In  hopeless  yearning  alone  she  passed. 
White,  white  as  milk  grew  each  plaited  tress, 

1  The  heart,  from  its  shape,  is  frequently  by  Persian  poets  likened 
to  a  fir-cone. 


542  Jami. 

And  dark  was  the  light  of  her  loveliness. 

The  musk  had  departed,  the  camphor  was  there, 

And  the  gray  dawn  had  banished  the  night  of  her  hair. 

From  the  arrow  of  Fate  had  the  raven  fled, 

And  the  owlet  lodged  in  the  nest  instead ; 

Lives  any  so  old  who  can  call  to  mind 

Owls  keeping  a  nest  by  the  ravens  resigned  ? 

In  her  eye's  narcissus  the  jasmine  grew : 

Tears  had  washed  from  her  eyelid  its  jetty  hue. 

Black  in  the  days  of  her  joy  was  that  eye 

Which  looked  delighted  on  earth  and  sky. 

Why,  when  her  hope  and  her  heart  had  failed, 

And  her  joy  passed  away,  was  the  blackness  paled? 

From  Hindustan  had  she  learned  to  wear 

Nothing  but  white  in  her  woe  and  despair  ? 

With  wrinkles  the  bloom  of  her  cheek  was  marred, 

And  the  leaves  of  the  wild  rose  were  withered  and 

scarred ; 
Each  line  that  in  blandishment  once  lent  a  grace 
To  her  delicate  brow  now  disfigured  her  face. 
In  this  ancient  world  who  ever  has  known 
The  smooth  water  lined  when  no  breeze  has  blown? 
But  there  ever  were  wrinkles  and  lines  to  deform 
Her  face's  soft  splendor  in  calm  or  in  storm. 
Grief  had  bent   down  the  cypress  once  stately  and 

proud, 
And  her  head  like  a  ring  to  her  foot  was  bowed  — 
Weighed  down  by  its  burden  it  lay  on  her  feet, 
Like  a  ring  on  the  door  where  the  happy  ones  meet. 
When  no  longer  the  blessing  of  sight  remained 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  543 

On  this  earth  with  the  blood  of  the  dead  distained, 

She  bowed  down  her  back  and  she  bent  her  head 

As  if  seeking  the  treasure  which  long  had  fled. 

Slowly  and  sadly  the  years  came  round  : 

Her  foot  was  unringed  and  her  head  uncrowned. 

There  gleamed  on  her  shoulder  no  satin's  sheen, 

No  precious  gems  in  her  ears  were  seen. 

On  her  neck  was  no  collar  of  costly  stone ; 

No  gold-wrought  veil  o'er  her  cheek  was  thrown. 

On  the  cold  bare  earth  for  a  bed  she  lay, 

And  the  cheek  once  so  dainty  was  pillowed  on  clay. 

Ah,  earth,  with  his  love,  was  a  pleasanter  bed 

Than  a  silken  couch  by  a  Houri  spread  ! 

Yes,  a  jewelled  pillow  from  Paradise  seemed 

The  brick  on  her  cheek  when  of  him  she  dreamed. 

In  this  sorrow,  of  which  but  a  part  is  sung 
In  the  vocal  pearls  which  my  pen  has  strung, 
His  name  was  all  that  her  lips  could  speak, 
The  only  comfort  her  soul  might  seek. 
While  yet  she  had  treasures,  a  wealth  untold 
Of  jewels  and  silver,  of  pearl  and  gold, 
Her  gold  and  silver  she  cast  at  the  feet 
Of  her  whom  some  tale  of  her  love  would  repeat, 
And  her  pearls  and  her  jewels  she  gave  to  each 
Who  poured  forth  those  jewels  and  pearls  of  speech ; 
But  her  gold  and  silver,  her  pearls,  and  her  vast 
Treasure  of  jewels  were  spent  at  last. 
With  a  woollen  gown  and  a  girdle  rent 
From  the  bark  of  the  palm  she  was  then  content. 
Then  all  on  the  knee  of  deep  silence  fell : 


544  Jami. 

No  more  of  Yusuf  she  heard  them  tell. 
No  longer  came  the  sweet  tidings  to  cheer 
Her  lonely  heart  through  the  path  of  her  ear. 

That  this  food  of  her  life  might  be  still  supplied 
She  built  her  a  hut  by  the  highway  side, 
That   each    ear    might    catch  —  and    the   hope  was 

sweet  — 
The  measured  tread  of  his  escort's  feet. 
Ah,  poor,  unhappy,  deserted  soul, 
From  whose  hand  has  fallen  the  rein  of  control ! 
From  the  love  of  her  darling  by  Fate  debarred, 
The  voice  of  her  longing  was  tuneless  and  hard. 
No  breath  from  her  love  might  be  wafted  to  her, 
No  tidings  be  learned  from  a  messenger. 
Oft  would  she  question  the  wind  if  it  knew 
Aught  of  her  love,  and  the  bird  as  it  flew. 
Whenever  a  traveller  passed  the  place 
With  the  dust  of  the  road  on  his  weary  face, 
She  would  wash  that  brow,  she  would  bathe  those  feet 
For  they  came  from  his  home  to  her  lone  retreat. 
If  her  lord  and  king  by  her  cottage  passed, 
No  look  on  his  face  had  she  power  to  cast, 
Content  with  the  sound  of  his  horse's  tread, 
And  the  dust  of  his  path  on  her  happy  head. 

The  Cottage  of  Reeds. 

A  cottage  of  reeds  had  she  built  by  the  side 
Of  the  way  where  Yusuf  was  wont  to  ride  ; 
And  with  reeds  that  uttered  a  plaintive  sound 


Ynsuf  and  Zulaikba.  545 

Like  the  voice  of  a  flute,  she  had  fenced  it  round. 
Whenever  she  uttered  her  wail  and  cry, 
Each  reed  in  concert  gave  sigh  for  sigh. 
When  the  fire  of  absence  consumed  her,  the  seeds 
Of  the  wild  flame  fell  on  the  pitying  reeds. 
Heartbroken  she  dwelt  in  that  hut,  nor  stirred 
From  the  place  where  she  lay  like  a  wounded  bird. 
Yet  the  thought  of  her  love  was  so  sweet  a  pain 
That  each  reed  was  to  her  like  a  sugar-cane. 

In  his  stalls  had  Yusuf  a  fairy  steed, 
A  courser  through  space  of  no  earthly  breed; 
Swift  as  the  heavens,  and  black  and  white 
With  a  thousand  patches  of  day  and  night ; 
Now  a  jetty  spot,  now  a  starry  blaze, 
Like  Time  with  succession  of  nights  and  days. 
With  his  tail  the  heavenly  Virgo's  hair, 
With  his  hoof  the  moon,  was  afraid  to  compare. 
Each  foot  with  a  golden  new  moon  was  shod, 
And  the  stars  of  its  nails  struck  the  earth  as  he  trod. 
When  his  hoof  smote  sharp  on  the  rugged  flint 
A  planet  flashed  forth  from  the  new  moon's  dint ; 
And  a  new  moon  rose  in  the  sky  when  a  shoe 
From  the  galloping  foot  of  the  courser  flew. 
Like  an  arrow  shot  through  its  side  in  the  chase, 
He  outstripped  the  game  in  the  deadly  race. 
At  a  single  bound  he  would  spring,  unpressed, 
With  the  lightning's  speed  from  the  east  to  the  west. 
As  he  lifted  the  dust  with  his  foot,  the  wind 
Of  the  rushing  tempest  was  left  behind. 
If  the  road  he  traversed  was  dank  and  wet, 


546  Jami. 

On  his  coat  you  would  see  not  a  drop  of  sweat. 

But  oft  would  his  paces  be  gentle  and  slow, 

As  the  big  drops  combine  till  the  torrents  flow. 

Now,  a  flying  treasure,  away  would  he  dash 

O'er  the  plain,  untouched  by  the  snake l  of  the  lash. 

Had  he  loved  to  rest  in  his  quiet  stall, 

The  heavens  had  served  him,  a  careful  thrall ; 

Had  quenched  his  thirst  from  the  fount  of  the  sun, 

With  the  urn  of  the  moon,  when  his  course  was  run. 

They  had  fed  him  with  Virgo's  gold  barley,  and  hay 

Gleaned  from  the  field  of  the  Milky  Way.2 

A  sieve  for  his  use  they  had  bidden  prepare, 

Each  year  and  month,  of  a  comet's  hair ; 

And  the  birds  who  sing  praise  at  the  break  of  morn 

From  the  Lote  tree 3  had  flocked  to  pick  stones  from 

his  corn. 
On  his  back  for  a  saddle  the  Scales  had  been  flung, 
And  a  new  moon  each  side  for  his  stirrup  hung. 
When  Yusuf  mounted,  the  moon  bestrode 
The  Scales  his  saddle  and  forth  he  rode. 
At  the  touch  of  that  thigh  the  proud  courser  neighed, 
And  his  thoughts  no  more  from  the  journey  strayed. 
The  neigh  of  the  charger  rang  clear  and  loud, 
And  the  drum  of  departure  was  shouts  from  the  crowd  ; 
And  like  planets  grouped  round  the  moon  a  ring 
Of  courtiers  gathered  about  their  king. 

From  her  cottage  of  reeds  came  Zulaikha  out 

1  An  allusion  to  the  serpent  which  is  said  to  guard  hidden  treas- 
ure. 

2  Kahkashan,  its  Persian  name,  means  literally  "  Hay-Attractor." 

3  The  Sidrah  or  Lote  tree  in  Paradise. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  547 

When  she  knew  of  his  coming  and  heard  them  shout. 

In  grief  and  anguish  of  heart  by  the  side 

Of  the  road  he  would  travel  she  sat  and  cried. 

When  the  host  that  preceded  his  courser  was  near 

Loud  rang  the  voices  of  boys  with  a  cheer : 

"  Look,  Yusuf  himself,  whom  the  sun  in  the  sky 

And  the  bright  moon  envy,  is  nigh,  is  nigh." 

Zulaikha  answered  :   "  Mine  eyes  are  blind, 

But  no  trace  of  Yusuf  mid  these  I  find. 

Mock  me  not,  darlings  !  oh,  spare  me  the  pain, 

No  breath  from  Yusuf  has  reached  my  brain. 

The  musk  of  Tartary  scents  the  place 

That  is  blest  with  the  light  of  his  lovely  face, 

And  when  he  sits  in  his  litter,  thence 

A  precious  perfume  pervades  the  sense." 

Nearer  and  nearer,  mid  loud  acclaim, 
Of  hearts  that  were  jubilant,  Yusuf  came. 
They  called  to  Zulaikha  :  —  "  The  guards  are  nigh, 
But  no  trace  of  Yusuf  has  met  our  eye." 
"  Strive  not  to  deceive  me,"  Zulaikha  replied ; 
"  My  darling's  coming  ye  may  not  hide. 
Can  the  coming  of  one  who  was  born  to  wield 
The  sceptre  of  sway  o'er  each  soul  be  concealed? 
The  breath  of  his  fragrance  gives  life  to  the  whole 
Of  this  world  of  ours  and  each  single  soul ; 
And  the  presence  of  him  who  gives  life  is  made  known 
To  the  poor  thirsty  soul  that  must  perish  alone." 

When  Zulaikha,  long  buried  in  darkness  and  gloom, 
Heard  the  shout  of  the  escort,  "  Make  room,  make 
room  ! " 


548  Jami. 

A  loud  cry  she  uttered  :  "  Rejected,  forlorn, 
A  long  age  of  absence  my  spirit  has  borne. 
I  can  suffer  no  more  :   I  have  had  my  full  share  : 
Loss  of  patience  is  now  the  sole  loss  I  may  bear. 
Far  better,  forever  excluded  from  bliss, 
To  fly  from  myself  than  to  linger  like  this." 

Thus  cried  Zulaikha,  then  sank  and  lay 
Unconscious  awhile,  all  her  senses  astray. 
That  cup  of  unconsciousness  still  she  kept, 
As,  oblivious  of  self,  to  her  cottage  she  crept. 
Then  rose  the  shrill  wail  as  her  sad  heart  bled, 
And  reeds  sighed  in  tune  with  the  strain  she  led. 
Thus  passed  in  her  sorrow  the  time  away, 
And  this  was  the  task  of  each  mournful  day. 

The  Convert. 

Never  content  is  the  lover ;  each  hour 

His  longing  waxes  in  strength  and  power. 

Ne'er  to  one  wish  for  two  moments  true, 

A  joy  still  dearer  he  holds  in  view. 

He  would  look  on  the  rose  when  he  breathes  her 

scent, 
And  pluck  the  fair  flower  when  the  stem  is  bent. 

Zulaikha  had  sat  by  the  way,  but  now 
She  would  lift  her  eyes  to  his  cheek  and  brow. 
At  the  foot  of  the  image  to  which  she  prayed 
From  the  days  of  childhood  her  head  she  laid : 
"  O  thou,  to  whom  praying  I  turn  me,  before 
Whose  feet  I  have  loved  thy  dear  might  to  adore ; 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikba.  549 

I  have  served  thee  devoutly  from  youth's  early  day ; 
But  the  gem  of  my  sight  has  been  taken  away. 
Cast  a  pitying  look  on  my  ruin  ;  restore 
The  light  of  mine  eyes  that  I  sorrow  no  more. 
Between  Yusuf  and  me  must  there  still  be  a  bar? 
Oh,  let  me  but  see  him  —  one  look  from  afar. 
This  prayer  —  thou  art  mighty  ;  this  one  wish  fulfil ; 
Give  this,  and  then  deal  with  me  after  thy  will. 
What  is  life  to  a  wretch  who  must  hopelessly  pine  ? 
Far  better  were  death  than  a  life  like  mine." 
Thus  cried  Zulaikha.     She  laid  down  her  head, 
And  wet  was  the  ground  with  the  tears  she  shed. 

To  his  throne  in  the  east  rose  the  Lord  of  Day, 
And  the  steed  of  Yusuf  was  heard  to  neigh. 
She  came  from  her  cottage  in  beggar's  weed 
To  the  narrowest  turn  in  the  way  of  the  steed, 
With  raised  hand  acted  the  mendicant's  part, 
And  made  a  low  moan  from  the  ground  of  her  heart. 
Before  their  master,  the  horsemen's  cry, 
"  Make  room,  make  room  !  "  went  up  to  the  sky; 
And  the  tread  and  tramp  of  the  mighty  throng, 
And  the  neighing  of  steeds  as  they  moved  along, 
Smote  on  each  ear,  and  no  eye  was  turned 
To  the  spot  where  Zulaikha  sat  undiscerned. 
He  looked  not  on  her ;  she  rose  forlorn, 
In  a  hundred  pieces  her  heart  was  torn. 
Her  broken  spirit  sent  out  a  cry, 
And  a  flame  came  forth  in  each  burning  sigh. 
To  her  house  of  woe  she  returned  distraught, 
And  a  hundred  flames  for  each  reed  she  brought. 


550  Jami. 

She  placed  before  her  the  idol  of  stone, 

And  to  lighten  her  sorrow  thus  made  her  moan  : 

"  O  thou  who  hast  broken  mine  honor's  urn, 

Thou  stone  of  offence  wheresoever  I  turn, 

I  should  smite — for  thy  falsehood  has  ruined  my  rest  — 

With  the  stone  thou  art  made  of,  the  heart  in  my  breast. 

The  way  of  misfortune  too  surely  I  trod 

When  I  bowed  down  before  thee  and  made  thee  my 

god; 
When  I  looked  up  to  thee  with  wet  eyes  in  my  woe, 
I  renounced  all  the  bliss  which  both  worlds  can  bestow. 
From  thy  stony  dominion  my  soul  will  I  free, 
And  thus  shatter  the  gem  of  thy  power  and  thee." 
With  a  hard  flint  stone,  like  the   Friend,1    as   she 

spoke, 
In  a  thousand  pieces  the  image  she  broke. 
Riven  and  shattered  the  idol  fell, 
And  with  her  from  that  moment  shall  all  be  well. 
She  made  her  ablution,  mid  penitent  sighs, 
With  the  blood  of  her  heart  and  the  tears  of  her  eyes. 
She  bent  down  her  head  to  the  dust ;  with  a  moan 
She  made  supplication  to  God's  pure  throne  :  — 
"  O  God,  who  lovest  the  humble,  Thou 
To  whom  idols,  their  makers,  their  servants  bow ; 
'Tis  to  the  light  which  Thy  splendor  lends 
To  the  idol's  face  that  its  worshipper  bends. 
Thy  love  the  heart  of  the  sculptor  stirs, 
And  the  idol  is  graven  for  worshippers. 

1  Abraham,  the  Friend  of  God,  broke  the  images  which  his  father 
and  his  people  worshipped. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  551 

They  bow  them  down  to  the  image,  and  think 
That  they  worship  Thee  as  before  it  they  sink. 
To  myself,  O  Lord,  I  have  done  this  wrong, 
If  mine  eyes  to  an  idol  have  turned  so  long. 
I  have  erred  and  strayed ;  let  repentance  win 
Forgiveness,  Good  Lord,  for  my  grievous  sin. 
Because  I  have  wandered,  nor  heeded  Thy  right, 
From  mine  eyes  Thou  hast  taken  the  jewel  of  sight. 
Thou  hast  washed  the  dark  stain  of  my  sin  away  : 
Now  restore  the  lost  blessing  for  which  I  pray. 
May  I  feel  my  heart  free  from  the  brand  of  its  woes, 
And  cull  from  the  garden  of  Yusuf  a  rose." 

As  Yusuf  home  to  his  palace  hied, 
Again  by  the  way  stood  Zulaikha  and  cried  : 
"  Glory  to  Cxod  !  to  a  monarch's  state 
He  has  lifted  the  poor  and  cast  down  the  great. 
He  has  cast  the  king  from  his  glory  down, 
And  set  on  the  head  of  a  servant  his  crown." 

When  Yusuf  the  voice  of  Zulaikha  heard, 
His  heart  in  his  bosom  was  strangely  stirred. 
He  cried  to  a  lord  :  "  As  I  hear  her  speak 
My  spirit  sinks  and  my  heart  grows  weak. 
Who  is  the  beadswoman  ?     Bid  her  appear 
In  my  council-chamber  that  I  may  hear 
From  her  lips  the  tale  of  her  life,  and  know 
Her  share  of  fortune,  her  dole  of  woe. 
For  the  words  of  praise  which  mine  ears  have  caught 
On  my  troubled  spirit  have  strongly  wrought. 
By  some  grievous  woe  is  her  heart  down-weighed. 
Or  why  should  my  soul  be  so  touched  and  swayed?" 


552  J  ami. 

Two  hundred  souls,  to  the  king  who  can  note 
The  truth  of  each  sigh  and  each  glance,  I  devote ; 
Whose  eye  can  discern  the  light  of  the  true 
From  the  false  look  of  those  who  deceive  when  they  sue  \ 
Who  honor  and  punishment  justly  can  mete 
To  the  true  light  of  dawn  and  the  liar's  deceit ; 
Not  like  the  princes  whose  judgment,  for  gold, 
In  our  evil  days  may  be  bought  and  sold. 
Each  tyrant  with  cheeks  like  a  guinea  in  hue 
Makes  a  hundred  wretches  his  mystery  rue. 
Gold  brings  the  flush  of  delight  to  the  cheek ; 
But  justice  from  gold  it  were  idle  to  seek. 

Youth   Restored. 

For  what  sweeter  joy  can  a  lover  yearn 
Than  to  love  his  love  and  be  loved  in  return ; 
To  bear  to  her  bower  his  burden  of  woes, 
And  find  the  sweet  comfort  which  love  bestows ; 
To  tell  the  dear  hopes  of  his  heart  and  repeat 
The  tales  of  old  time  at  his  darling's  feet? 

When  Yusuf,  freed  from  the  pomp  and  din, 
Had  sought  his  chamber  and  entered  in, 
A  chamberlain  cried  at  the  door  :  "  O  best 
Of  princes,  famous  from  east  to  west, 
That  ancient  woman  in  beggar's  weed, 
Who  laid  her  hand  on  the  rein  of  thy  steed, 
Whom  by  thine  order  I  bade  appear 
This  day  in  thy  presence,  is  waiting  here." 

"  Go,  hear  her  petition,"  thus  Yusuf  replied, 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  553 

"  Is  she  poor  and  in  want,  for  her  need  provide." 
"  She  is  not,"  said  the  chamberlain,  "  one  of  those 
Who  will  tell  me  the  tale  of  her  need  and  woes." 

"Admit  her,"  said  Yusuf,  "  that,  face  to  face, 
She  may  lift  the  veil  of  her  mournful  case." 

Zulaikha  came  in,  when  permission  was  won, 
As  free  as  the  motes  in  the  light  of  the  sun. 
Like  a  bud  she  expanded  :  the  lips  that  were  pale 
Smiled  bright  as  a  rose,  and  she  bade  him  hail. 
He  asked  her  her  name  and  her  home,  the  while 
He  marvelled  much  at  that  joyous  smile. 

"  I  am  she  who  chose  thee,"  she  cried ;  "  and  thou, 
Since  that  one  first  glance,  hast  been  loved  till  now ; 
To  whom,   bought  with    my  wealth,   I    devoted    the 

whole 
True  love  of  my  heart  and  my  mind  and  my  soul. 
I  cast  for  thy  sake  my  young  life  to  the  wind, 
And  age  has  come  o'er  me  and  youth  declined. 
Thine  arms  for  a  consort  this  realm  have  embraced, 
And  I  am  unpitied,  forgotten,  disgraced." 

From  his  eye  the  big  tears  of  compassion  fell 
As  he  heard  the  tale  he  remembered  so  well. 
"Zulaikha,"  he  said,  "what  unhappy  fate 
Has  brought  thee  down  to  thy  low  estate  ?  " 

When  she  heard  her  beloved  her  name  express, 
Zulaikha  fell  prostrate,  Zulaikhaless. 
The  wine  of  unconsciousness  boiled  in  her  heart, 
And  the  sense  from  her  body  was  riven  apart. 
Then  thus  began  Yusuf,  as  slowly  at  length 
Zulaikha  recovered  her  senses  and  strength  : 


5  54  Jami. 

"Where  is  thy  youth,  and  thy  beauty,  and  pride?" 
"  Gone,  since  I  parted  from  thee,"  she  replied. 
"Where  is  the  light  of  thine  eye?"  said  he, 
"  Drowned  in  blood-tears  for  the  loss  of  thee." 
"Why  is  that  cypress  tree  bowed  and  bent?  " 
"  By  absence  from  thee  and  my  long  lament." 
"  Where  is  thy  pearl,  and  thy  silver  and  gold, 
And  the  diadem  bright  on  thy  head  of  old?" 
"  She  who  spoke  of  my  loved  one,"  she  answered, 

"  shed, 
In  the  praise  of  thy  beauty,  rare  pearls  on  my  head. 
In  return  for  those  jewels,  a  recompense  meet, 
I  scattered  my  jewels  and  gold  at  her  feet. 
A  crown  of  pure  gold  on  her  forehead  I  set, 
And  the  dust  that  she  trod  was  my  coronet. 
The  stream  of  my  treasure  of  gold  ran  dry ; 
My  heart  is  love's  storehouse,  and  I  am  I." 

Again  spoke  Yusuf :  "  Zulaikha,  say, 
What  is  the  wish  of  thy  heart  to-day?  " 
"  My  prayer,"  she  answered,  "  wilt  thou  refuse  ; 
But  no  help  save  thine  can  I  wish  or  choose. 
And  if  with  an  oath  thou  wilt  pledge  thy  word, 
To  utter  that  prayer  shall  my  tongue  be  stirred. 
If  not,  in  silence  my  lips  I  close, 
And  give  my  soul  back  to  my  life  of  woes." 

"  By  the  truth  of  that  Father l  who  reared  of  yore 
The  temple  of  prophecy,"  thus  he  swore  ; 
"  To  whom  a  tulip  bloomed  forth  in  the  flame, 
And  from  heaven  a  robe  of  high  honor  came  ; 

1  Abraham. 


Yusuf  and  Zulaikha.  555 

Whatever  thy  will  be  this  day,  1  vow  — 

If  I  have  but  the  power —  I  will  grant  it  now." 

"  First,  my  beauty,"  she  cried,  "  and  my  youth  re- 
store 
In  the  pride  and  splendor  thou  knewest  before ; 
Then  add  the  gift  of  new  sight  to  those, 
To  see  thee  and  cull  from  thy  cheek  a  rose." 

He  moved  his  lips  and  his  prayer  began 
While  the  healing  stream  from  his  pure  mouth  ran. 
The  beauty  returned  which  was  ruined  and  dead, 
And  her  cheek  gained  the  splendor  which  long  had 

fled. 
Again  shone  the  waters1  which  sad  years  had  dried, 
And  the  rose-bed  of  youth  bloomed  again  in  its  pride. 
The  musk  was  restored  and  the  camphor  withdrawn, 
And  the  black  night  followed  the  gray  of  the  dawn. 
The  cypress  rose  stately  and  tall  as  of  old  : 
The  pure  silver  was  free  from  all  wrinkle  and  fold. 
From  each  musky  tress  fled  the  traces  of  white  : 
To  the  black  narcissus  came  beauty  and  light. 
The  halo  of  youth  round  her  age  was  seen : 
For  the  forty-years'  dame  stood  a  girl  of  eighteen ; 
Yes,  fairer  and  brighter  in  loveliness  stood 
Than  in  days  of  her  ripening  maidenhood, 

Again  said  Yusuf :  "  O  thou  most  fair, 
If  a  wish  now  be  left  thee,  that  wish  declare." 

"The  one  sole  wish  of  my  heart,"  she  replied, 
"  Is  still  to  be  near  thee,  to  sit  by  thy  side ; 

1  A3,  in  Persian,  means  both  water  and  splendor. 


556  Jami. 

To  have  thee  by  day  in  my  happy  sight, 

And  to  lay  my  cheek  on  thy  foot  at  night ; 

To  lie  in  the  shade  of  the  cypress  and  sip 

The  sugar  that  lies  on  thy  ruby  lip ; 

To  my  wounded  heart  this  soft  balm  to  lay : 

For  naught  beyond  this  can  I  wish  or  pray. 

The  streams  of  thy  love  will  new  life  bestow 

On  the  dry  thirsty  field  where  its  sweet  waters  flow." 

When  Yusuf  the  prayer  of  Zulaikha  had  heard, 
He  bowed  down  his  head  and  he  spoke  no  word, 
To  the  world  unseen  were  his  eyes  turned  away, 
And  he  gave  her  no  answer  of  Yea  or  Nay. 
Then  a  sound  on  his  ear,  as  he  doubted,  fell, 
And  he  knew  'twas  the  wing-beat  of  Gabriel. 
Thus  spoke  the  Angel :  "  To  thee,  O  king, 
From  the  Lord  Almighty  a  message  I  bring. 
'  Mine  eyes  have  seen  her  in  humble  mood ; 
I  heard  her  prayer  when  to  thee  she  sued. 
At  the  sight  of  her  labors,  her  prayers,  and  sighs, 
The  waves  of  the  sea  of  My  pity  rise. 
Her  soul  from  the  sword  of  despair  I  free, 
And  here  from  My  throne  I  betroth  her  to  thee.'  " 


NOTES. 


ODE  I. 

I.   A  black  mole  is  to  the  Persians  a  great  mark  of  beauty. 

3.  The  Luli  or  gypsies,  as  they  were  contemptuously  called,  were 
a  people  of  the  tribe  of  Keredj,  of  Indian  origin,  who  inhabited  the 
country  between  Shiraz  and  Isfahan.  Their  young  men  and  maidens 
were  famous  for  their  beauty  and  musical  accomplishments. 

6.  Joseph's  separation  from  his  father  stands  for  the  parting  of 
lovers. 


ODE  II. 

4.  The  glass  of  Alexander,  sometimes  a  mirror,  sometimes  a  bowl, 
is  identical  with  the  cup  of  jam,  or  jamshid,  which  plays  so  large  a 
part  in  Persian  imagery.  This  magic  glass  reflected  in  its  surface 
all  that  was  passing  on  the  earth ;  by  its  aid  Alexander  was  able  to 
foresee  all  the  movements  of  Darius,  and  so  to  conquer  him.  Alle- 
gorically  the  glass  of  Alexander,  or  bowl  of  jamshid,  means  the 
intuition  into  the  truth  of  the  universe  gained  by  union  with  the 
Godhead  through  the  ecstasy  of  intoxication,  literal  or  mystical. 

7.  The  morning  draught,  the  cure  for  "  hot  coppers,"  is  the  sign 
of  an  abandoned  toper.  The  bulbul  sings  all  night  through  to  keep 
the  frequenters  of  the  tavern  awake  in  readiness  to  drink  at  dawn. 

9.  It  was  Mohammed  himself  who  called  the  wine  the  "  dam  of 
abominations."  The  saying  is  here  attributed  to  the  anonymous 
"  Sufi"  only  from  obvious  motives  of  piety  —  or  policy. 

10.  Kurun,  the  Korah  of  the  Bible,  is  the  Mohammedan  Croesus. 
The  Koran  says  that  the  keys  alone  of  his  treasure-houses  made 
burdens  for  several  men. 

11.  Hafiz  has  been  appointed  from  the  creation  of  the  world  to  be 
a  wine-drinker,  and  this  must  be  his  excuse  before  orthodox  teachers 
for  whom  abstinence  has  been  foreordained. 

557 


558  Notes. 


ODE   III. 

4.  Here  the  Hostel  of  Two  Doors  is  life,  with  its  gates  of  birth 
and  death.  Khayyam's  thought,  rendered  by  Fitzgerald,  is,  "this 
battered  Caravanserai,  whose  portals  are  alternate  Night  and  Day." 

5.  The  "vow  of  Alast"  is  the  eternal  compact  which  binds  man 
to  obedience  to  his  Maker;  and  the  day  of  Alast  is  the  day  of 
creation. 

7.  Solomon  was  blessed  with  three  privileges  among  others :  he 
could  ride  on  the  wind,  he  knew  the  language  of  birds,  and  he  had 
for  his  Grand  Vizir  the  sage  Asaph,  Asaph  of  the  psalms,  famous 
for  his  wise  conduct  of  the  kingdom  through  the  troublous  time 
when  Solomon's  seal,  to  which  he  owed  his  superhuman  powers, 
was  in  the  possession  of  Sakler  the  Genie,  who  had  stolen  it,  through 
the  carelessness  of  Asaph  himself. 


ODE   IV. 

5.  The  Mohammedans  say  that  Abraham's  father  was  named 
Azar,  which  in  Persian  means  "  fire,"  and  that  he  was  a  maker  of 
idols,  and  hence  idolatry  and  fire-worship  were  the  prevalent  reli- 
gions of  that  time.  Nimrod,  the  king  of  the  day,  caused  Abraham  to 
be  cast  into  a  great  fire  which  was  miraculously  turned  into  a  rose 
garden.     Hence  the  fire  of  Nimrod  which  enflames  the  tulip. 

ODE  VI. 

This  ode,  so  Anacreontic  in  form  and  spirit,  was  written  on  the 
occasion  of  one  of  the  periodical  edicts  which  enforced  the  laws 
against  wine-drinking. 

ODE  VII. 

8.  The  "  Angel  Guard  "  is  the  mythical  Khizr,  the  "  Green  Old 
Man."    See  note  XXIX. 

ODE  VIII. 

Hafiz  wrote  this  ode  during  his  visit  at  Yezd  on  the  Sultan's  invi- 
tation. This  is  said  to  be  his  only  long  journey  away  from  Shiraz. 
Besides  homesickness  he  suffered  from  niggardly  treatment. 

3.  The  Protector  is  Khizr,  the  Angel  Guard  of  VII. 


Notes.  559 

7.  This  couplet  illustrates  a  curious  conceit,  much  used  in  Persian 
poetry  —  the  introduction  of  the  elements  in  rhetorical  relation. 
Three  out  of  the  four  are  brought  in  here,  air,  water,  and  earth  ;  and 
the  lines  thus  possess  an  elegance  which  the  uninstructed  Occidental 
would  never  suspect. 

9.  Zuhra  is  the  planet  Venus,  the  Anahita  or  Uahid  of  the  old 
Persian  mythology,  and  the  lute-player  of  the  heavens. 

ODE  XXIV. 

3.  The  Persians  describe  the  dimple  in  the  chin  of  their  mistress 
as  a  dangerous  well  filled  with  her  lover's  tears,  into  which,  when  he 
approaches  her  mouth,  he  may  fall  and  be  drowned. 

6.  "  Oh  rose,  tearing  thy  robe  in  two  " :  that  is,  bursting  into 
flower  beneath  the  warm  breath  of  the  wind  that  blows  from  where 
thou  art. 

ODE  XXV. 

1.  This  poem  is  addressed  to  the  Vizir  of  Sultan  Oweis  of  Bagh- 
dad, Hadji  Kawameddin,  who  founded  a  college  for  Hafiz  in  Shiraz. 
With  true  Persian  exaggeration  the  poet  must  needs  write  to  his 
patron  much  in  the  same  terms  in  which  a  lover  would  write  to 
his  mistress ;  but  his  words,  though  they  sound  strangely  to  our 
ears,  are  nothing  more  than  the  Oriental  way  of  saying,  "  Awake, 
my  St.  John  !  " 

The  mystical  interpretation  of  the  first  few  lines  is  said  to  be :  As 
the  wine  glows  in  the  cup  like  the  reflection  of  a  ruddy  cheek,  so  in 
the  goblet  of  my  heart  I  have  seen  the  reflection  of  God,  the  true 
Beloved. 

6.  It  is  related  that  upon  a  certain  occasion,  when  Hafiz  was 
feasting  with  the  Vizir  in  the  latter's  garden,  a  servant  handed  to 
him  a  goblet  of  wine,  and  as  he  took  it  he  saw  in  it  the  reflection  of 
the  crescent  moon  overhead.  The  incident  suggested  this  verse  to 
him.     I  should  say  that  the  anecdote  was  of  doubtful  authenticity. 


ODE  XXVI. 

1.   Hafiz  wrote  this  poem  upon  the  death  of  his  son. 

3.  Rosenzweig,  in  his  edition  of  the  Divan,  says  that  the  allusion 
is  to  the  dust  and  water  which  God  kneaded  into  the  body  of  Adam, 
and  that,  out  of  derision,  Hafiz  calls  the  human  body  a  house  of  joy. 


560  Notes. 

The  moon,  according  to  Persian  superstition,  has  a  baneful  influ- 
ence upon  human  life. 

4.  Rosenzweig  says  that  "  I  had  not  castled  "  means  that  Hafiz 
had  not  taken  the  precaution  of  marrying  his  son,  and  so  securing 
for  himself  grandchildren  who  would  have  been  a  consolation  to 
him  on  their  father's  death.  For  that  reason  he  had  nothing  more 
to  lose,  and  was  indifferent  as  to  what  his  next  move  in  the  game 
should  be. 

ODE  XXVII. 

3.  "  Night  is  with  child"  —  a  Persian  proverb  extraordinarily  sug- 
gestive of  the  clear,  deep,  Eastern  sky.  The  sight  seems  to  slip 
through  between  the  stars  and  penetrate  a  darkness  which  is  big 
with  possibilities. 

ODE  XXVIII. 

Sidrah  and  Tuba  are  two  trees  in  the  Garden  of  Paradise.  The 
former  is  the  abode  of  the  angel  Gabriel.  Concerning  the  latter 
Sale  says:  "They  fable  that  it  stands  in  the  palace  of  Mohammed, 
though  a  branch  of  it  will  reach  to  the  house  of  every  true  believer; 
that  it  will  be  laden  with  pomegranates,  grapes,  dates,  and  other 
fruits  of  surprising  bigness,  and  of  tastes  unknown  to  mortals.  So 
that  if  a  man  desire  to  eat  of  any  particular  kind  of  fruit,  it  will 
immediately  be  presented  to  him ;  or  if  he  choose  flesh,  birds  ready 
dressed  will  be  set  before  him,  according  to  his  wish.  They  add 
that  the  boughs  of  this  tree  will  spontaneously  bend  down  to  the 
hand  of  the  person  who  would  gather  of  its  fruits,  and  that  it  will 
supply  the  blessed  not  only  with  food,  but  also  with  silken  garments 
and  beasts  to  ride  on,  ready  saddled  and  bridled  and  adorned  with 
rich  trappings,  which  will  burst  forth  from  its  fruits ;  and  that  this 
tree  is  so  large  that  a  person  mounted  on  the  fleetest  horse  would 
not  be  able  to  gallop  from  one  end  of  its  shade  to  the  other  in  a 
hundred  years."  —  Introduction  to  the  Koran. 

4.  He  means  either  facilis  decensus  Averni,  or,  more  probably, 
that  a  great  number  of  those  upon  whom  the  orthodox  look  askance 
will  be  found  to  have  equal  claim  to  reward,  since  the  distinction 
between  Sufi  and  orthodox  is  in  fact  nothing. 

ODE  XXIX. 

1.  Blue  is  the  Persian  color  of  mourning.  Hafiz  compares  the 
weeping  lovers,  clad  in  robes  of  grief,  to  a  bed  of  violets,  and  as 


Notes.  561 

the  violets  bow  their  heads  when  the  wind  passes  over  them,  so  they 
bow  down  when  their  mistress  passes  by  with  flowing  curls. 

3.  "  Erghwan,"  the  Syringa  persica  or  Persian  lilac.  In  the  early 
spring,  before  it  comes  into  leaf,  it  is  covered  with  buds  of  a  beau- 
tiful reddish  purple  color. 

"  Khizr,"  a  prophet  whom  the  Mohammedans  confound  with 
Phineas,  Elias,  and  St.  George,  saying  that  his  soul  passed  by  me- 
tempsychosis successively  through  all  three.  He  discovered  the 
fountain  of  life  and  drank  of  it,  thereby  making  himself  immortal. 
It  is  said  that  he  guided  Alexander  to  the  same  fountain,  which  lay 
in  the  Land  of  Darkness.  It  was  he,  too,  for  whom  Moses  set  out 
to  seek  when  he  had  been  informed  by  God  that  Al  Khizr  was  wiser 
than  he.  He  found  him  seated  on  a  rock,  at  the  meeting  of  the  two 
seas,  and  followed  him  for  a  time,  learning  wisdom  from  him,  as  is 
related  in  the  eighteenth  chapter  of  the  Koran.  His  name  signifies 
Green ;  wherever  his  feet  rested,  the  earth  was  covered  with  green 
herbs,  and  it  was  he  from  whom  Hafiz  took  the  cup  of  immortality. 

ODE  XXX. 

2.  That  is  to  say,  the  prayer-carpet  of  the  orthodox  Mussulman 
had  not  enough  value  to  procure  for  him  so  much  as  one  glass  of 
Sufi  wine.  Nor  was  he  worthy  to  lay  his  head  even  upon  the  dusty 
steps  of  the  tavern  —  the  place  of  instruction  in  Sufi  doctrine. 

3.  To  be  clothed  in  one  color  is  the  Persian  idiom  for  sincerity. 
He  means  that  the  single  purple  robe  of  the  grape  is  worth  more 
than  the  hypocritical  garment  of  the  dervish,  all  torn  and  patched 
with  long  journeying—  in  the  wrong  road. 

ODE  XXXII. 

5.  Shah  Shudja  was  not  always  on  the  best  of  terms  with  Hafiz, 
partly  because  he  was  jealous  of  the  latter's  fame  as  a  poet,  and 
partly  because  Hafiz  had  been  the  protege  of  Shah  Shudja's  former 
rival,  Abu  Ishac.  Accordingly  the  king  looked  about  for  some 
means  of  doing  the  poet  an  injury,  nor  was  it  long  before  he  found 
what  he  sought.  He  accused  Hafiz  of  denying  the  resurrection, 
basing  the  accusation  upon  the  last  couplet  of  this  poem  —  the  last 
three  lines  of  the  present  translation  —  and  cited  him  before  the 
Ulema  as  an  infidel.  But  Hafiz  was  too  many  for  him.  Before 
the  day  on  which  he  was  to  answer  the  charge  against  himself,  he 
inserted  another  couplet  into  the  ode,  in  which  he  stated  that  the 
dangerous  lines  did  not  express  his  own  opinion,  but  that  of  a 


562  Notes. 

heretical  Christian.  He  came  off  with  flying  colors ;  for  not  only 
was  he  entirely  cleared,  but  it  was  also  acknowledged  that  he  had 
dealt  a  good  blow  on  behalf  of  the  Mohammedan  religion,  since  he 
had  shown  up  one  of  the  errors  of  the  infidel. 

ODE  XXXIV. 

3.  The  month  of  Sha'aban  is  the  eighth  month  of  the  Arabic 
year.  It  is  followed  by  Ramazan,  during  which  month  the  Prophet 
decreed  that  from  two  hours  before  dawn  until  sunset  nothing 
should  pass  the  lips  of  his  followers.  The  fast  is  so  strictly  observed, 
especially  by  the  lower  orders,  that  not  only  do  they  refrain  from 
eating  and  drinking,  but  they  will  not  even  smoke  until  the  sunset 
gun  puts  an  end  to  the  day's  abstinence.  The  night,  however,  is 
passed  in  feasting  and  revelry,  and  the  richer  classes  will  sleep  late 
in  Ramazan  and  shorten  the  long  hours  that  must  pass  before  they 
may  breakfast. 

ODE   XXXV. 

1.  The  story  of  the  creation  of  Adam,  and  of  the  part  played  in  it 
by  the  angels,  is  told  by  Mohammed  in  the  following  terms  :  "  When 
thy  Lord  said  unto  the  angels,  I  am  going  to  place  a  substitute  on 
earth  ;  they  said,  Wilt  thou  place  there  one  who  will  do  evil  therein, 
and  shed  blood  ?  but  we  celebrate  thy  praise  and  sanctify  thee. 
God  answered,  Verily  I  know  that  which  ye  know  not;  and  he 
taught  Adam  the  names  of  all  things,  and  then  proposed  them  to 
the  angels,  and  said,  Declare  unto  me  the  names  of  these  things 
if  ye  say  truth.  They  answered,  Praise  be  unto  thee,  we  have  no 
knowledge  but  what  thou  teachest  us,  for  thou  art  knowing  and 
wise.  God  said,  O  Adam,  tell  them  their  names.  And  when  he 
had  told  them  their  names,  God  said,  Did  I  not  tell  you  that  I  know 
the  secrets  of  heaven  and  earth,  and  know  that  which  ye  discover 
and  that  which  ye  conceal  ?  And  when  he  said  unto  the  angels, 
Worship  Adam ;  they  all  worshipped  him,  except  Eblis,  who  re- 
fused, and  was  puffed  up  with  pride,  and  became  of  the  number 
of  unbelievers."  —  Koran,  chap.  ii. 

Tradition  has  amplified  and  adorned  this  story.  It  is  said  that 
the  three  archangels,  Gabriel,  Michael,  and  Israfil,  were  each  in 
turn  ordered  to  take  from  the  earth  seven  handfuls  of  clay  of  three 
different  colors,  red,  white,  and  yellow,  that  God  might  create  out 
of  it  the  races  of  mankind.  But  each  in  turn  was  moved  by  the 
earth's  prayer  that  he  would  not  rob  her  of  her  substance,  and 
each  returned  to  heaven  empty-handed.    The  fourth  time  God  sent 


Notes.  563 


Azrail,  the  angel  of  death,  who  tore  the  seven  handfuls  from  the 
earth,  but  hearing  her  lamentations,  promised  her  that  when  man 
ceased  to  live  his  substance  should  return  to  the  earth  from  whence 
it  had  been  taken.  With  the  clay  that  Azrail  brought  him  God 
moulded  the  figure  of  man,  and  when  it  was  finished  he  left  it  forty 
days  to  dry.  The  angels  came  often  to  gaze  upon  it,  and  Eblis, 
kicking  it  with  his  foot,  found  that  it  rang  hollow.  When  the  figure 
of  clay  was  dry,  God  breathed  the  breath  of  life  into  its  nostrils,  and 
ordered  the  angels  to  submit  to  the  man  he  had  created.  But 
Eblis  refused,  saying  that  he  had  been  created  of  pure  fire,  and 
would  not  serve  a  hollow  mould  of  clay;  for  which  reason  God 
cast  him  out  of  Paradise.  The  rest  of  the  angels  acknowledged  the 
superiority  of  Adam  after  God  had  made  him  tell  them  the  names 
of  all  the  creatures  of  the  earth,  though  they  had  at  first  protested 
that  it  was  not  seemly  that  they  should  bow  down  to  him,  for  their 
love  for  God  was  greater  than  his.  It  is  with  this  legend  in  his 
mind  that  Hafiz  speaks  of  the  angels  as  standing  at  the  tavern  door, 
where  man  may  enter  and  receive  instruction  in  God's  wisdom,  but 
where  they  must  knock  in  vain,  and  as  moulding  a  wine-cup  with 
the  despised  clay  out  of  which  the  human  body  was  moulded.  I 
think  he  means  that  man  himself  is  the  vessel  into  which  divine 
love  and  wisdom  are  poured ;  and  when  he  says  that  the  angels  first 
brought  him  wine,  he  means  that  by  their  example  they  showed  him 
what  it  was  to  be  intoxicated  by  the  contemplation  of  God. 

3.  "  Concerning  the  forbidden  fruit,"  says  Sale  in  a  note  to  the 
second  chapter  of  the  Koran,  "  the  Mohammedans,  as  well  as  the 
Christians,  have  different  opinions.  Some  say  it  was  an  ear  of 
wheat,  some  will  have  it  to  have  been  a  fig  tree,  and  others  a  vine." 

There  are  supposed  to  be  seventy-two  sects  in  Islam.  Many 
Mohammedan  writers  compare  them  to  the  seventy-two  branches 
of  the  family  of  Noah  after  the  Babylonian  confusion  of  tongues 
and  the  dispersal  of  the  children  of  Adam. 

ODE  XXXVII. 

I.  It  is  related  that  Ghiyasuddin  Purabi,  who  succeeded  his 
father  to  the  throne  of  Bengal  in  the  year  1367,  fell  sick.  During 
his  illness  he  was  nursed  by  three  faithful  handmaidens  whose 
names  were  Cypress,  Tulip,  and  Rose,  and  owing  to  their  care  he 
eventually  recovered.  The  rest  of  the  Sultan's  ladies  were  jealous 
of  the  gratitude  that  the  three  maidens  had  earned  from  Ghiyasud- 
din, and  nicknamed  them  contemptuously  "  the  three  bath  women," 
because  they  had  washed  the  king's   body  while  he  was  ill.    He 


564  Notes. 

therefore  determined  to  do  them  honor  by  commemorating  their 
devotion  in  a  poem,  and  to  this  end  he  composed  the  first  line  of  a 
couplet,  and  ordered  the  poets  of  his  court  to  complete  the  ode. 
The  line  ran  thus:  "Saki  hadis-i-sarvo  gul  o  laleh  miravad"  — 
Cup-bearer,  a  tale  runs  of  a  Cypress,  a  Rose,  and  a  Tulip.  But  the 
poets  were  unable  to  perform  the  task  to  the  king's  satisfaction,  and 
at  length  some  one  suggested  that  the  line  should  be  sent  to  Hafiz 
of  Shiraz,  the  fame  of  whose  great  skill  had  reached  Bengal.  This 
was  accordingly  done,  and  Hafiz  composed  the  ode  here  translated, 
with  which  the  Sultan  (whose  taste  see'ms  to  have  turned  toward 
the  discursive  in  poetry)  was  much  delighted.  The  three  cups  of 
wine  are  an  allusion  to  the  three  maidens  who  washed  the  king's 
body;  the  parrots  of  India  are  the  court  poets  of  Ghiyasuddin,  and 
the  Persian  sweetmeat  is  the  ode  that  Hafiz  sent  to  Bengal. 

4.  Samir.  Al  Samiri  belonged,  say  the  Mohammedans,  to  a  cer- 
tain tribe  among  the  Jews  called  the  Samaritans,  whence  his  name. 
In  this  the  Mohammedans  strangely  betray  their  ignorance  of  his- 
tory, for  the  Samaritans  were  not  formed  into  a  people,  nor  did  they 
bear  that  name,  until  many  ages  later.  Some  say  that  he  was  a 
proselyte,  but  a  hypocritical  one,  and  originally  of  Kerman  or  some 
other  country.  His  real  name  was  Musa  ibn  Dhafar.  He  was  a 
magician  and  an  alchemist.  Pharaoh  employed  him  as  a  rival  to 
Moses  when  the  latter  worked  miracles  with  his  hand  and  his  staff, 
but  Al  Samiri  was  unable  to  show  wonders  as  great  as  those  per- 
formed by  Moses.  It  was  he  and  not  Aaron,  according  to  Moham- 
medan tradition,  who  cast  the  golden  calf.  The  calf  was  made  of 
the  ornaments  of  gold  and  silver  and  other  materials  which  the 
Israelites  had  borrowed  from  the  Egyptians;  for  Aaron,  who  com- 
manded in  his  brother's  absence,  having  ordered  Al  Samiri  to  col- 
lect those  ornaments  from  the  people,  who  carried  on  a  wicked 
commerce  with  them,  and  to  keep  them  together  till  the  return  of 
Moses,  Al  Samiri,  understanding  the  founder's  art,  put  them  all 
together  into  a  furnace,  to  melt  them  down  into  one  mass,  which 
came  out  in  the  form  of  a  calf.  The  Israelites,  accustomed  to  the 
Egyptian  idolatry,  paying  a  religious  worship  to  this  image,  Al 
Samiri  went  further,  and  took  some  dust  from  the  footsteps  of  the 
horse  of  the  angel  Gabriel,  who  marched  at  the  head  of  the  people, 
and  threw  it  into  the  mouth  of  the  calf,  which  immediately  began  to 
low,  and  became  animated ;  for  such  v/as  the  virtue  of  that  dust. 
(Sale,  Notes  to  second  and  twenty-second  chapters  of  the  Koran.) 
Al  Samiri  is  mentioned  byname  in  the  twenty-second  chapter  of  the 
Koran  :  "  Al  Samiri  led  them  astray." 


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